Why Worry
by Readingtoomuch
Summary: When Quinn's life is rocked by betrayal, she and her son move to a new city to start a new life. They even meet new people, and that's when things really start to change.
1. Chapter 1

"Why worry, there should be laughter after pain

There should be sunshine after rain

These things have always been the same

So why worry now?"

— Dire Straits

"Mom, did you know that now that you're thirty-nine," the eight year old boy said, "you've lived almost half of your life expectancy? I learned about life expectancies in a book I read."

"I let you spend too much time in the library," Quinn huffed. She unlocked the door to their new apartment and let Alec walk in first. They'd only lived there for a few days, but already he was perfectly comfortable with dropping his coat and backpack right in the middle of the floor. "Pick it up, Alec."

He sighed like she'd just asked him to plow a field by hand. "Dad doesn't make me pick stuff up at his house . . ."

 _That's because your father is a disgusting, fuck-for-brains, shithead who's probably busy fucking some cheap whore right now — whoa,_ she said to herself, taking a deep breath, _calm down, Quinny. He's not even here right now._ "Well, you have to here – I'm sorry for the onerous burden."

"Dad doesn't think I know big words like that," Alec said with a slight lisp. "Dad always says that —"

"Let's not talk about dad anymore, alright?" Quinn said with a forced smile. "Tell me about your first day at school."

He shrugged as he sat where Quinn had patted on the couch. If she didn't stop him ahead of time he'd sequester himself in his room with a book and she wouldn't hear from him again until he got hungry.

"It was ok."

"Did you make any friends?" This was Alec's first day at the elementary school in their new town. When she'd caught Don in bed with Sheryl, his secretary, Quinn had known that she couldn't even remain in the same city with her husband. Ex-husband, she mentally corrected.

"Naw, not really." The small blonde was always loquacious, except when the lens was turned in his direction.

Quinn kept the frown from her face; she wanted to be confident for him. "What about your teacher, is he nice?" She hated herself a little for not meeting the man yet, he probably thought she was a horrible parent, but it was so exhausting, moving to a new town, setting up a new apartment. Quinn just hadn't gotten around to everything yet.

Another shrug. "He gave me a note to give you."

She took the small piece of paper.

 _Ms. Fabray,_ (One thing she _had_ made sure to do was revert to her maiden name.)

 _I just wanted to let you know that Alec had a great first day! I can already tell that he's really smart and nice, and I'm really glad to have him in my class. I always try to meet with all of my students' parents at least once, just to introduce myself. Is there a good time for us to meet? It would only take a few minutes, just long enough for me tell you what your son will be working on this year and things like that._

 _I'm looking forward to meeting you,_

 _Sam Evans_

XxXxX

"Excuse me," Quinn said to a pleasant looking kid, "I'm looking for Mr. Evans."

The boy smiled. "Oh, that's —"

"Are you in one of those programs where you shadow a teacher to get career experience before college?" Quinn asked. "I did that in high school, too. I quickly found out teaching wasn't for me, but it was a lot of fun, especially getting to miss class."

He gave her a crooked grin. "Are you Ms. Fabray?"

Quinn cocked an eyebrow. "How do you know that?"

"You and your son have the same eyes." The boy extended his hand. "Plus, we have an appointment. I'm Sam Evans."

She could feel her face turning bright red. "Oh my God . . ." Quinn squeezed the bridge of her nose. "I'm such an idiot."

"Ah, surely not," the teacher smiled. "Alec gets his brains from somewhere, right?"

She really didn't want to look at him. "Err, don't you have to be at least twenty-one to teach?"

There was a snort of laughter. "I'm actually twenty-two. Bachelor's from Purdue with a teaching certificate; it made my mom proud, anyway."

Quinn just stared for a moment at those rosy cheeks and full lips. "I am so, so sorry."

"Not at all, I get it all the time. The price of youth, I guess." He motioned for her to take a seat in front of his desk. "Let's talk about your son."

 _Anything to keep from talking about me,_ Quinn thought as she sat. "Let's start over. I'm Quinn."

"Nice to meet you, Quinn. I'm Sam. It's really been a pleasure having Alec in class so far."

"Is there a rule that all teachers have to say that?"

Sam laughed. "It's lesson one for education majors. Seriously though, your son is obviously very smart, very well behaved, and I think he's adjusting well."

"I'm glad to hear that," Quinn said, glad that they were getting down to business and leaving her idiocy behind – he did look very young, though. With golden hair, those cheeks, and wide eyes, her son's third grade teacher looked to be about sixteen years old. Well built, Quinn couldn't help but notice, but still sixteen. "I was a little worried; Alec's always been introverted."

"I've noticed that he hangs back at recess and gym," Sam said. "I've introduced him to a few of the other students I thought might have similar interests to Alec, but he usually sticks pretty close to me at recess."

"It's something that's always kind of worried me, in the back of my mind," Quinn said.

The last time she talked to someone his age, it had been to the kid bagging her stuff at the grocery. She gives herself a mental kick, because that really sounds condescending, even though she's the only one who heard it.

"I wish he could make friends more easily," she added.

"I'm sure he will. I always try to give them group work, you know, because they're so young, so hopefully Alec will find someone he likes to work with."

Technically, twenty-two's an adult, but when you reached nearly forty, you realized that numbers like eighteen and twenty-one were nothing but arbitrary dates. Obviously, this guy is a professional, but it's just weird.

"Well, thank you for taking an interest. I just worry, I guess it's a mom thing."

"Good moms tend to do that," the teacher smiled, standing and extending his hand. "If you have any other questions or concerns, my email and cell number are both on the information sheet that all the kids have."

Quinn stood and shook his hand; it enveloped hers, was scratchy from what she supposed to be sports; he looked like he worked out. "Thank you. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Evans." _Yeah, that in no way fits his face. I feel like I should call him "Dude."_

"You too, but call me Sam. Mr. Evans does feel weird when it's not a eight year old saying it."

She walked out feeling a little bit better. He was obviously a nice guy, and he seemed to know what he was doing, no matter his age. And the school must have confidence in him. Quinn decided she was glad that Alec was in his class. It could only be a good thing for her son to see that not all men are dicks.

Alec didn't know the specifics of why his parents divorced, how could you explain that to an eight year old? But he was smart enough to pick up on her animosity for his father, though she did try to hide it. It could only be good for him to have a caring male role model.

There was definitely an opening for that job these days.

One Week Later

She woke to pain.

Everything hurt. Her toes hurt. Her eyes hurt. Quinn managed to lean over the side of the bed and vomit onto the floor. She had enough wherewithal, barely, to be thankful that she'd managed to turn over and not choke to death.

Her hair is sticky on her face, and her eyes felt like they'd been sealed shut with grit. It's sheer will that forces them open, and she has to immediately clench them shut again under the blazing light of her bedside lamp. Her face aches.

It's several long minutes before she can open her eyes again, slowly this time. At first it was a trial just to see and breathe at the same time, but she's finally able to add hearing to the mix. It's Alec's voice, he's laughing. He's talking to someone else, a voice she doesn't recognize. Quinn stares at the clock for a long time, hoping that her persistence will force the numbers to make some sort of sense. 7:56.

Two things hit her at almost the same time. First, the fact that she should have picked Alec up from school five hours ago. Next, another spasm of vomiting. Back over the side of the bed, so another mark in the victory column because she doesn't choke to death.

She wipes her mouth on the sheet and doesn't even care. The throbbing in her head feels like someone's twisting a screwdriver in her ear, but she, finally, manages to sit up. Quinn holds her arms tight around her sides and waits for the world to stop spinning.

The wine. You'd have to be a real ass to drink a bottle of wine in the middle of the day and pass out in a drunken stupor. She doesn't know how Alec got home, but from the cadence of his voice he's alright, so she pushes that aside for just a moment. The guilt will come momentarily, she's sure, when her brain regains the capacity to process more than just pain.

Don, his asswipe ex-husband. He'd called to tell her that he was getting married to his whore because she was pregnant. That's what had set off the drinking. She was sure that had been in the living room. You'd have to be pathetic to get tanked in your own bed. The irony of that last thought wasn't lost on even her alcohol soaked mind.

The pain's still the worst she's ever felt, probably including childbirth, but that was nearly a decade ago so the memory's deadened a little. This is almost certainly worse. But now the maternal guilt is competing with the hangover. She's got to beg Alec for forgiveness for forgetting to pick him up and find out how he got home. God, if the school called Don . . . Surely they wouldn't. He lived almost a hundred miles away. But who else?

Opening the bedroom door leads to a fresh assault on her senses. The lights are brighter in the rest of the house and the sound from the TV is murder on her brain and her ears. But there's her son, sitting happily on the couch with, with. She doesn't know. Admittedly, she might know the person, but there's not a single organ in her body that's functioning correctly at present.

"Mom!" He looks happy to see her, so maybe she hasn't ruined his life. She still can't place the other person. Who the hell is sitting on her couch? He looked sort of uncomfortable.

"Mr. Evans brought me home! He made grilled cheeses!"

Oh, God. It's the teacher, the young one. The one who looks like a mix between a frat boy and a lifeguard, looks like he's just arrived from a photoshoot for _Abercrombie & Fitch_. Another wave of nausea hits her and she can't stand up straight.

"Whoa!" It's that second voice she'd heard earlier, the one she couldn't recognize.

Suddenly, she's all wrapped up in arms and a hard chest. She's deposited on the couch.

"Are you sick, mom? We got home and you were on the couch. Mr. Evans said you probably didn't feel so good. He carried you to your bed! Like a princess! He didn't kiss you to wake you up, though. He said you should rest."

The teacher's voice interrupts her silent prayer for death. "Hey, Alec, why don't you go get that book you were talking about earlier? The one you said was lost in your room somewhere?"

"That'll take a long time to find."

"That's ok. I really want to see it."

The sound of his feet on the hardwood was something like gunfire in her ears, though that discomfort had to wait in line. Quinn was now aware enough to be totally, completely, mortified.

"God . . ." she managed to croak.

"Can I get you anything?"

He's leaning over her, peering at her. The light's behind his head so it's difficult to make out his face. Quinn can only imagine that he looks disgusted.

"I am so, so sorry," she croaked.

His voice is very gentle and soft, probably something learned from dealing with eight year olds all day. "We waited after school for a little bit. The office has his dad's number on file, but Alec said that calling him probably wouldn't be a good idea."

She manages to push herself into a sitting position.

"I hope it's ok that I brought him home and kinda invited myself in. You, uh," his hand reached back to scratch at his hair. It's a stupid time to wonder if he dyes it. "You didn't look like you were feeling so great, so I wanted to make sure everything was alright."

"I am so, so sorry." Part of her thinks she might have already said that, but she can't come up with anything better. "I'm not usually like this." Quinn hopes that clarifies things a little.

"I'm glad," he smirks. "Cause if you were, you'd be dead." He picks up the empty bottle from the coffee table. "This stuff's Night Train. The alcohol content's so high Guns N' Roses wrote a song about it."

She has a vague memory of walking down to the liquor store after she'd hung up on her ex-husband.

Before she can come up with an answer he gets up. She sort of hopes that he's just going to leave so she won't have to face him. But there's no such luck. He returns with a glass of water, pushes that into her hand. He seems pretty familiar with her apartment. Of course, having brought her son home from school, he's been here for five hours now.

When the water hits her tongue with a metallic twang it dawns on Quinn how awful she must look, how rancid she must smell. The feeling in her body has returned just enough for these facts to really, really bother her.

"I, I can't thank you enough."

He shrugged. The gesture made him look even closer to her son's age.

"You must think I'm a horrible mother."

"Nah. I think you just had a bad day." He glanced towards the smaller of the two bedrooms. "Alec told me that you and his dad aren't really, uh. Well, it's none of my business."

Another wave of guilt hit her, probably worse than the nausea. Obviously her son knew that his family had broken apart; they were living a hundred miles away from his father. But she felt horrible over the fact that it had affected him so deeply that he was telling strangers about it. She didn't know what she should have expected.

"I _am_ a horrible mother." She was saying it to herself, but of course the other person in the room heard it, too.

"I'm sure that's not true." He pushed her hand, the one holding the glass, closer to her. "Drink up. I was in college not too long ago, so I know my way around a hangover."

"You don't look like you're old enough for college." Whatever connects her brain to her mouth still hasn't reattached. She probably vomited it out onto her bedroom floor.

His eyes twinkle when he grins. "I'll take that as a compliment." He stood up from the couch. "Can I help at all before I go? Alec's already eaten, and we did his homework. He said he brushed his teeth, but he was super quick, so you might want to check on that."

Again, mouth to brain, some component was missing. "Are you some kind of angel?"

He laughed, and it sounded really manly, which she knew was a strange observation. "I'm going to say goodbye to Alec. He's got my number if you need anything." He did an odd little half salute, half wave. "Feel better, Ms. Fabray."

"Um, it's Quinn." Evidently, he'd carried her to her bed, which was mortifying on it's own, but that probably earned him the right to call her by her name.

"Feel better, Quinn."

XxXxX

She made a point to arrive early the next day, twenty minutes before school let out. For some reason it was important to her that her son's teacher see that she could actually handle something so simple as picking her child up after school.

It's probably weird that she'd dressed far better than she normally would for a simple trip to an elementary school. Strangely, it's important that she show this guy, this kid, that she's not a total fuck up, in spite of what he saw the day before. The memory of _that_ still made her want to retch.

"Hey, it's nice to see you again!"

In her limited and extremely awkward encounters with her son's teacher, he always seems so genuine and real, which is probably a good trait in a third grade teacher. It's obvious that he's not judging her based on what he saw yesterday. She can't remember what he was wearing last night, but today he's got a cardigan paired with a skinny tie. It's as if someone had taken him to a store named "Hip Young Male Teachers R Us."

"I just wanted to thank you again for everything you did last night." She made sure there were no other parents around before she said that. Things like that could easily be misconstrued, especially when the young teacher in question was vaguely attractive. More than vaguely.

"It was nothing. I'd do the same for any of my students." He moved a little closer and whispered, "Well, maybe not for Travis." The teacher nodded in the direction of a burly looking boy who was walking out the door with a woman Quinn assumed to be his mother. "Travis eats boogers and doesn't care who knows it."

He pulled a form from his desk. "Would you mind signing this? It just says that I'm on the list of people who can pick Alec up from school." He made a funny face. "Don't wanna go to prison for yesterday, you know?"

She signed her name, but said, "You won't have to do it again. I'm really, really sorry about all that."

"Hey, we've all had those days."

"You've drank yourself into a stupor after learning your ex-husband is getting remarried and having another kid?"

"Ok, maybe not specifically that, but would it make you feel better if I told you that I've dated two different lesbians that later married one another? I didn't handle it very well."

"Are all your parent/teacher conferences this interesting?"

"Rarely."

Alec chose that moment to walk over from the classroom bookshelf. "Can I take this one home, Mr. Evans?"

"Sure thing, bud." To the boy's mother, he said, "Alec's definitely gonna win our class reading competition."

Quinn brushed her son's hair away from his forehead. He wasn't old enough yet that this small gesture of affection from his mother signified social suicide. "What's the prize?"

"Everyone else wants to go to a baseball game," Alec's face screwed up in disgust at that prospect, "but if I win, Mr. Evans said that he'd take me to the Natural History Museum."

"That's really nice of Mr. Evans." To the young teacher, Quinn said, "You don't have to make special arrangements for him. He'll survive a baseball game."

"No, I won't."

The teacher grinned. "Nope, if he wins, he gets to pick. Besides, I think it's awesome that one of my kids actually wants to learn."

And Quinn couldn't help but think that it was awesome that her son had such a nice teacher. She tells him to go get his things so they can go home.

"Seriously, though," Quinn said. "I really can't thank you enough for yesterday. And not just for getting him home and taking care of him. Thanks for," she blushes, "for not judging me."

The teacher gave that grin that she was quickly starting to like. "There's a lot more to you than one bad day, I'm pretty sure of that."

This guy looks like a kid but talks like an adult. And walking out, Quinn's really happy he's her son's teacher.

 _To Be Continued . . ._

 **So, this idea has actually been percolating since 2011 when Chord Overstreet guest starred on** ** _The Middle._** **I hope you like it, because there's a lot more to come! Let me know in reviews! Also, my other story, "I Was Stoned On Love, I Guess," was originally a oneshot, but then I got the inspiration to write more. So check that out if you like the idea of Sam and Quinn bumping uglies. I might write more there, too, so I'm leaving it marked as incomplete.**


	2. Chapter 2

"Listen," Quinn said through clenched teeth. "If it were up to me, you'd have your balls smashed in a vice and then run over by a truck." She made sure that her son was occupied in his room so he didn't overhear the conversation. "But for whatever reason, Alec loves you. So what the hell do you mean when you say that he can't come over this weekend?"

Her ex-husband blathered on the other end of the line. "Quinny, look —"

"Don't call me that." He'd called her that for years, when they were in love. She'd been in love, anyway. She couldn't say what had been going on in his mind.

Don sighed. "Quinn, I'm sorry. But I promised Sheryl I'd take her to —"

"You're jilting your eight year old son for your whore? That's really classy, Don."

"Hey, that's not fair. We've had these plans for weeks now, and . . ."

She didn't hear the rest of it. Quinn tossed the phone onto her bed. Throwing it at the wall would have felt better, but she's an adult, and adults don't do those kinds of things. Although, after getting blackout drunk a week ago, smashing a phone didn't seem that bad.

Quinn took a moment to compose herself and think of a suitable lie. Nothing was forthcoming, so she decided to go with the usual. She found Alec playing a video game.

"Hey, sweetie." She looped her arm around her son's shoulders. He's small for his age and fit perfectly into her side.

"Dad's not coming, is he?"

"How'd you know I was on the phone with dad?"

"Your face is red."

She shouldn't be surprised. Alec had always been an extremely astute child; it was impossible to surprise him with Christmas or birthday presents. "Well, he's really busy with work this weekend." She didn't have a clue why she was lying for her dirtbag ex-husband. Well, actually she did know. She wasn't doing it for _his_ sake.

"But we can do something fun," Quinn added.

"Can we go to Barnes and Noble?"

She had known that was coming. The bookstore was the only place he ever asked to go. She constantly shifted between being worried about his introverted nature and being proud of how she had the smartest kid in any class. At the bookstore they always sat together on one of the plush couches and shared a pastry while they read. It was their thing, and she loved it.

Quinn knew it was crazy, but the apartment felt polluted after her conversation with her husband. Ex-husband, she reminded herself. They were married for fifteen years, and old habits died hard. She wanted to get out for a little while. It was almost as if talking with on the phone had left a stink in the air.

"What if we went tonight?"

His eyes lit up. "And can we go tomorrow, too? I'll probably finish the book I'll buy tonight and I'll need another."

"What's going to happen when you run out of books?"

"There are always more books, mom."

XxXxX

Alec might read three grade levels past his age, but she wasn't going to let him wander around a bookstore by himself. It probably came from spending too much time online, reading horror stories, but she never left him alone in public. Don said she was crazy, eight was old enough to go into a public restroom alone. But he didn't exactly have a record of good judgement. So, Quinn followed dutifully behind as they went shelf to shelf, looking for the tome that would catch his interest. He liked to have options, so she always ended up carrying a bunch of books.

Quinn managed to snag a book for herself before they squeezed into a wide armchair together. It was the latest thriller from one of those authors that seemed to put out three books a year. If she was reading what she actually enjoyed, she'd have a romance novel in her hand right now, a real bodice ripper. But those were for the Kindle during a hot soak in the bathtub when no one could see the cover and judge her. Quinn had a standing Friday night appointment with the bubble bath and the latest installment of _Outlander._ God, that Jamie Fraser . . .

Her son's small voice pulled her from her thoughts.

"Mom?"

"Hmm?" Alec wasn't usually one for talking when there were books available.

"Why don't we see dad very much?"

Smart as he was, and her son was extremely smart, Alec was still eight years old. It had been nearly impossible to explain divorce to him, and the fact that she dreaded having to do so had made the task all the more difficult. Quinn knew Don had talked to him about it, too, but she didn't know what he'd said.

"Well, we live in different towns now." It was a cop out, and she had no doubt that he would call her on it.

"Because you and dad got a divorce?"

"That's right." She hadn't pushed for sole custody. As much as she now loathed her husband, e _x-husband, dammit._ As much as her ex-husband was now her least favorite person in the world, she hadn't wanted to do _that_ to him, or to Alec, for that matter. So they shared joint custody, not that it had mattered much thus far. Evidently Don was extremely caught up in his new love life.

"I read about divorce in a book."

Good grief, what kind of books did they have at that elementary school? Quinn suddenly remembered her guidance counselor in high school, a vapid woman with huge eyes, and her oddly titled pamphlets.

"Do you have any questions about it?" She'd rather not discuss this in the middle of a bookstore, but eight year old kids usually didn't have a great sense for timing, and in that way, her son was no different.

"I know that dad still loves me."

"That's right, he does."

"Does he still love you?"

Probably, in his own way. After she'd walked in on him with the secretary, Don had begged and pleaded for her forgiveness, had cried and sobbed, even. For a little while, a day or two, Quinn had wondered if she should forgive him and move on, for their family's sake. But then the cold numbness had receded, just a little, and she'd awakened to the fact that she hadn't done anything to hurt their family. That was on him.

She'd since read more than her fair share of books about how divorce affected children, and she spent too much time skimming internet articles, all of which served to convince her that whatever she and Don did, it was going to traumatize Alec either way.

"Dad and I will always do what's best for you." Another cop out, and it didn't even pretend to answer his question. There was probably a chapter in one of the books on her nightstand about how her response had just set him down the path to drug addiction or something.

"I think he does still love you, mom."

That was in the books, too. Invariably children of divorce, especially younger children, hoped that their parents would get back together. Quinn couldn't blame him, but his young mind didn't know how to factor in his father's secretary. And she hadn't told him that he was getting a sibling. That was Don's job. It made her sick at her stomach, anyway.

"Well, I love _you_ ," Quinn said, kissing the top of his head. "And I love when we're together like this. Do you want to take a break from reading and get a cookie or something?" That was usually an agreeable option.

They walked to the adjacent coffee shop and waited in the short line. Quinn was just thinking that after their little discussion she deserved a seven dollar coffee, courtesy of Don's latest alimony check, when she heard Alec squeal.

"Mr. Evans!"

The blonde teacher walked up to their place at the counter. "Nice to see you, it is," he said in a voice that took Quinn a second to place as Yoda. It made her son light up.

"Mom, Mr. Evans does impressions! He taught us about fractions, and the whole time he talked like Darth Vader!"

"Wow, Mr. Evans sounds really talented." The grin across his large lips looked like it could have come from any eight year old.

"It's all about putting on a show, you know?" Tonight he's wearing a t-shirt and jeans, instead of the usual skinny tie and slacks. Quinn had to admit that he carried off the casual look equally well. Maybe better, because whereas the cardigan sweaters he wore in the classroom where kind of bulky, the same could not be said of the t-shirt.

"Can't say I'm surprised to see Alec at a bookstore."

"We're here a lot since we moved," Quinn said. She saw that he had a box in hand and unconsciously arched an eyebrow when she saw the picture on the side.

"Legos," he said, a slight blush on his face as he held the box a little higher to let her see. "It's how I unwind. Tonight I'm building the Eiffel Tower."

"Is that what people in their twenties do on Friday nights these days?"

"The cool ones." He reached over and helped Alec grab a napkin that was too high for the eight year old. "I keep a bunch a work and that's what we do when it's too cold to go outside."

"I built a dinosaur," Alec quipped. "But Travis stepped on it."

"And he apologized," Sam prompted.

"He's a jerk."

"Alec, that's not very nice."

"He _is_ , mom," her son rebutted before ignoring them and walking to a nearby table to eat his cookie.

To Quinn, Sam whispered, "Travis _is_ kind of a jerk. He's the one who eats his own snot."

"Do you have any awful stories about my son?"

"Nope. Alec really is a great kid," Sam said. When the barista handed Quinn her drink, Sam leaned forward before she could swipe her card. "I'm getting theirs, too," he said, putting a bottled water on the counter with his Lego set.

"Hey, you really don't have to do that." Actually, she couldn't figure out why he would do that. They'd just run into each other by chance.

"I want to." He swiped his own card before she could object again. "You're a lady, it'd be rude if I didn't."

"I don't think that applies since we're not together." Whoa. Even the thought of being _together_ with someone his age, someone who looked like he did, made Quinn blush.

Sam laughed. "You don't know my dad. He's kinda a stickler about the Southern gentleman thing." He winked at her. "I was raised right."

He looked like he was raised recently. Those round cheeks and full lips; Quinn stopped that line of thought right there. "Well, thank you, and thank you to your dad. At the next PTA meeting, the juice and apple slices are on me."

"I'm gonna hold you to that," he laughed.

Quinn couldn't help but note that he didn't wait to be invited before sitting down next to Alec at the little table in the cafe area.

They chatted for a minute about school, and Quinn talked to the two of them about how they spent their days in the classroom. It wasn't long, though, before Alec wanted to look at more books. But there was a young reader section next to the cafe, so she told him he could go alone as long as he stayed where she could see him.

They'd been alone for just a minute when Sam said, "I should probably apologize to you."

"For what?" So far all he'd done was take care of her son when she'd downed an entire bottle of wine. Oh, and he'd bought her a coffee. Quinn couldn't imagine what he should be sorry for.

Sam enlightened her. "Alec asks to stay back from PE everyday. I guess as his teacher, I should make him do stuff that he doesn't want to, because it's good for him. But I just let him hang out with me. He reads for forty-five minutes."

Quinn laughed. "Which explains why I'm always hearing that Mr. Evans is the best teacher ever." Now they're both watching her son look over a shelf, pull one book down, read the cover then put it back, try another. "Can I ask your professional opinion?"

"I'm not on the clock, but hit me with your best shot."

"Should I be worried that he's so introverted?"

Sam shrugged. "Getting an education degree, you hear about a thousand different models and developmental theories. But I don't think you should try to change kids. Sure, he's kinda quiet, but he works well with others when I push him. Alec's a cool guy with a mom who obviously loves him a ton. I think he'll be ok."

"That's sweet of you to say."

Alec returned just then, heavy laden with a stack of books braced under his chin.

"One book, Alec." After the expected sigh and return to the shelves to make a Sophie's Choice, Quinn said, "We have this fight every time we come here."

"I think my mom would've loved to have your problem. I hated to read as a kid."

"Really?"

Sam nodded. "I'm dyslexic."

What are you supposed to say to that? You hide it well? I'm sorry? What would she be sorry for? "Was school difficult?" She didn't know what she was asking, but she had to say something.

"Elementary school was hell," he said, voice flat. "Kids can be mean."

She knows that for a fact. She was the mean kid. Quinn feels bad about it now, doesn't know what she could have been thinking at the time. Why had terrorizing Rachel Berry made her feel good about herself?

"But I had a good teacher in fifth grade. A really patient teacher," he said.

"Great teachers can make all the difference." Well, that sounded like she was pandering.

They talked for a while longer. He's easy to talk to, eager and open. Quinn wonders for the second time that night what a guy who looks like _that,_ and is obviously friendly and charming, is doing at a bookstore on a Friday night, talking with her, no less. If she just saw this guy on the street, she'd assume he was on his way to sleep with a supermodel.

"We should probably get going," Quinn said. Alec had since returned to the table, but he was reading and ignoring the two adults present. "I've got a long night ahead of me of searching online for a handyman."

"Something wrong?"

Quinn shrugged. "Nothing major. At least, I hope not." She knew absolutely nothing, less than nothing, about anything related to home repair. "The washing machine's started to leak, so I'm spending the night reading Yelp reviews, hoping to find someone who won't cheat the single woman who doesn't know a thing about washers."

Sam smiled. "Well, you don't have to worry about that. I'll look at it for you."

"You know about appliances?"

"I've been described as handy."

"Well, I can't ask you to do that." Who is this guy? People aren't this nice, at least not so constantly nice.

"You don't have to ask me. I'm offering."

Quinn shook her head. "I would really feel like I was taking advantage of you, especially after you helped me the other day." As in, took care of her child for an entire evening and didn't judge her for being a drunken loser. "I appreciate the offer, but it's not your job to fix things in my life."

Sam leaned over the table. "You remember I told you about my dad raising me right? Well, if he knew that I didn't help a lady who needed it, let's just say, I'm pretty sure I'm not too old for a whoopin'."

"Wow, I can't believe you just said whoopin'."

"It's the best word to describe it." He stood up. "And washers are easy. I'll have it ready to go in fifteen minutes."

XxXxX

It takes considerably longer than that. After two hours, she's spilled her guts. Quinn doesn't even know why she started telling this guy about her life. About the recent turn her life has taken, anyway. Really, he's just an amazingly attractive kid who happens to teach her son and be skilled at fixing washing machines. And he has such welcoming eyes. The way he looks at her just seemed to invite her to reveal every detail of her life.

"And I knew I had to get away. I didn't even want to be in the same city, let alone the same house."

"That's understandable," Sam Evans said from his position on the floor. He's lying flat, his head and shoulders mostly inside the open front panel of the washing machine. "I'm sorry you had to go through that." His voice echoes slightly from inside the drum.

Quinn stood over him holding a screwdriver. He hadn't asked for it, but it made her feel like she was doing something productive. His shirt's pulled up just slightly, ever so slightly, revealing maybe an inch of skin. Quinn makes a point not to look. Well, not to look for a third time, anyway.

"We were married for fifteen years, and then he goes and does something like that. I kept asking myself afterwards if he'd ever loved me at all." Alec's ensconced in his bedroom, reading his new purchase, which explained why she felt like she could talk like this. Well, no. It explained why she could talk without her son overhearing. It did not explain, not at all, why she felt like she could unburden herself to this guy on her laundry room floor.

There's a clanking sound from inside the washing machine as he adjusts one part or another. "Did you love him?"

It doesn't occur to Quinn to think him forward for asking. She opened those doors two hours ago. "I thought I did. I mean, we had our problems, but who doesn't?" The words are just flowing out. There's a voice in the back of her head, a quiet, faint whisper, that's telling her that later she'll be embarrassed for revealing so much. But she doesn't heed it now.

She's talked to her best friend, certainly. But as wonderful as Kitty is, Quinn hasn't actually talked to anyone about this who didn't just say "Don's an ass," as a matter of course. He is, she knows that, but this guy is actually _listening_ to her. And again, Quinn knows she'll be plenty embarrassed by that later.

"He never wanted kids. I mean, I know he loves Alec, I wouldn't accuse even him of not loving his own son, but he never wanted children. And he knew I did. We were married for seven years before Alec was born, and he was completely by accident."

"A good accident. He's one of my favorite kids in class." Another clanking sound, a grunt from the repair guy.

"He's the best thing in my life. Sometimes I worry, about how our splitting up has affected him, I mean."

"He seems like he's really well adjusted," says the voice from inside the washing machine. "Seriously, kids are tough."

He would know, being as he'd been a kid only recently. But that's a mean thought, and she feels guilty for thinking it. This guy might be young, but he's the nicest man she's met in a long time. "My downfall is spending too much time on the internet reading about children of divorce. Do you think he'll become a serial killer?"

"I doubt it." There's a grunt from down below. "I think serial murder would be too messy for him. He's the only kid in my class who volunteers to wash his hands before lunch. Can you imagine if blood got on one of his books?"

He pulls further in and the shirt goes up another half inch or so.

"I guess I'm a bad mother for wanting to murder his father."

"Only if you go through with it." There's some clanking from inside the washer as he fiddles with whatever part or component he's decided is causing the problem. "Ah, here we go! I think I've just about —"

There's a spraying sound at the same time that she hears, "Shit!"

She leaned down. "Um, everything alright?"

A drenched third grade teacher emerges from the bowels of the washing machine. "Actually, I think I fixed it. However, there were casualties."

His shirt, his entire top half, is completely soaked.

"Oh." The garment is clinging to him. Clinging. As in, clinging to every single contour. It turns out that he's very healthy, and there are a lot of contours.

"Um, I might have a shirt you can borrow."

"That would be awesome." And then he just pulls his off. He just pulls of his shirt. In front of her. Just pulls that thing off.

 _Holy shit._

Her ex-husband, despite being the most despicable life form on the planet, was not an unattractive man. But he's also in his early forties, and for the first time in his life, he can't just eat whatever he wants without consequence, and so things have slackened around the middle in the past few years. And he's the only guy she'd seen shirtless in about fifteen years. At least, seen up close.

 _Holy fucking shit._

Sam Evans, her son's teacher, looks like he's carved from marble. Milky white skin blushed with pink and red. Golden hair on his lower arms. A six pack? An eight pack? She can't just stand there and count. Her eyes instinctively follow the little trail of hair from his bellybutton to the waistband of his jeans. Her stomach starts to hurt when she thinks about where _that_ could possibly lead.

 _Holy fucking, mother fucking, fuck, fuck, fuck, shit._

"Um, Quinn?"

She woke up. "Lemme see what I can get you to wear." She darts from the room, praying that the burning sensation on her face doesn't translate to a blush. Quinn knows she's not that lucky.

He's still standing there, gloriously bare and seemingly unruffled about the whole thing, when she returned a few minutes later with a white t-shirt. "This was my ex's, and somehow it survived the purge." Quinn handed it to him, a large, large part of her brain reluctant to see him cover up. "I promise you won't catch anything from it, even if it was his."

He laughs and lifts his arms to pull the shirt over his head. There are tufts of honey colored hair under his arms. It's the single hottest thing she's ever seen in her life. Quinn cannot believe that she's just seen her son's teacher's armpit. It's such a weirdly intimate thing. She can't believe the sensation in her stomach right now.

To keep from endlessly clenching her fingers, she grabs the discarded, extremely wet, shirt. "I will get this washed and dried and bring it on Monday when I drop Alec off at school."

"You don't have to bother with that. I can take it and wash it at home."

He looks so much better in that shirt than her ex ever had. It's a white undershirt and she's absolutely certain that he could wear it down a runway in Italy or something. Quinn has to ask herself what the hell is wrong and why does everything keep _fluttering_? God, she can see his nipples through the fabric. She actually knows what his nipples look like now. God.

"Well, let me give you some money, for fixing the washer."

"No way. It was just helping a friend. It's no big deal."

So, she's friends with a hot twenty year old. "You've been here for nearly three hours. I think that's a big deal."

His smile crosses his whole face and extends to his eyes; she's starting to learn that he doesn't do things in half measures. Like, for example, exercising. He's obviously very dedicated to that.

"It's not," Sam said, "but hey, I do have a favor I'd like to ask."

"By this point I feel like I owe you a pretty big favor."

His eyes twinkled. "Well, you're free to say no, but I hope you'll say yes." He smoothed his new shirt across his chest. It looked like a self-conscious fidget, because, yeah, he is sort of just wearing an undershirt. And she can definitely see those nipples. Both of them. She wonders if he knows this.

"Um, so I'm taking my class on a field trip next week to the botanical gardens, and I need a parent chaperone. I was going to send out a group email to all the parents, but if I already had a volunteer, it could save me a lot of legwork . . ."

"Of course!" Is she disappointed that the favor wasn't to lick his abs? Maybe a little, but Quinn can admit that it wasn't a particularly realistic expectation. "I probably owe you two field trips after everything you've done for me."

"Seriously, don't mention it, I'm happy to help. And anyway, it'll be nice to have one of the cool moms to chaperone."

"I'm one of the cool moms?" She's a little embarrassed by how much she enjoys hearing that.

"Probably the coolest," he says, but with a mischievous smirk. "But don't get cocky, cause the competition's not too fierce."

She'd sort of like for him to elaborate on how she's cooler than the other kids' moms. For all she knows he spends all his free time helping out older women with their appliance needs.

"Um, I'm sorry, by the way," Quinn offered, "for boring you with all that, earlier. About my ex, I mean." It's dawning on her exactly how much she said, how much she revealed, to this guy.

Sam shook his head. "It's good to talk sometimes."

"Sometimes I talk too much."

"Maybe that means it needed to be said."

Maybe. "You're easy to talk to."

"In my line of work," Sam grinned, "you've got to be."

It did take a long time to fix the washing machine, so it's late when he leaves. Quinn had let herself get caught up in spilling all her secrets and hadn't noticed the time and that her son was still up. But it's Friday night, and they can sleep in.

Not every night, or even most of them, but some nights he sleeps with her. Don had always rolled his eyes, said she was babying their son. Part of Quinn dreaded the day when Alec would decide he was too big to be her baby.

But right now she's got him, and it feels good to hold him close after baring her soul, telling another person how badly she'd been hurt. Immediately after the divorce, she'd mostly tried not to think about it, to bury what had happened to her family.

Tonight was probably a good thing.

 _To Be Continued . . ._

 **Thank you to the readers who left reviews on the first chapter! Things really start to move in the next chapter . . . leave reviews to get us there!**


	3. Chapter 3

"You need to start getting out more."

Kitty was always full of useful tidbits like that. They'd been friends since high school, and Quinn loved her, but sometimes, lots of times, the other blonde was flippant with her advice. "Getting out more" was easier said than done when you're a single parent, and, perhaps more crucially, don't really want to get out more. At least, Quinn told herself that she didn't want that.

"I am getting out more. I'm going to the botanical gardens tomorrow."

"Are you ninety?" Kitty screeched through the phone. "Why don't you just adopt six cats and call it a day?"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "I'm chaperoning Alec's class field trip, so I'll be surrounded by young people, if that makes it any better."

Kitty promptly ignored that. The humdrum of domestic life rarely interested her much. "You need to go to a club."

"A club?" She couldn't think of anything more abhorrent.

"Yeah. And meet someone. Get laid."

"I have a kid, Kitty. I can't just get laid."

"It's been a long time since Biology 101, but didn't you get the kid by getting laid?"

"You sound like an idiot."

"You sound like a nun."

No, she doesn't want to spend the rest of her life alone. But she just, within the last few months, ended a fifteen year marriage. So, if she's lonely she can snuggle with Alec. Quinn's sure she doesn't need more than that. Not right now.

The idea is ludicrous.

XxXxX

Before the bus left the school parking lot for the field trip, Sam walked up to where she was sitting with her son.

"Hey, Alec, I need you to do me a favor." He pointed to a seat with only one kid. "I really don't want Nate to have to sit by himself. You mind hanging out with him?"

Alec moved seats, but obviously reluctantly. Sam, however, appeared pretty pleased to quickly take his spot next to her. "I'll admit," he whispered to Quinn, "that I'll jump at the chance to talk to someone who isn't eight years old."

"Wow, I hope I can live up to your expectations."

"I'll be honest, you're good as long as you don't want to talk about dinosaurs and Disney movies."

"Hmm, you seem like the kind of guy who'd love talking about dinosaurs and Disney movies." And Legos, she remembers from their meeting at the bookstore. And probably _Star Wars_.

"Oh, I do, but too much of a good thing, you know?" He winked at her. "I'd rather talk about adult things like tax returns and 401ks."

He's really cute when he winks. He needs to quit it. "You're super interested in a 401k?"

"Actually, I don't really know what that is. I just thought it sounded super adult. Like, 'hey look, I'm a grown up, I have a 401k, isn't a 401k awesome? I love my 401k.'"

She's trying to think of something witty to say in response when the most adorable little girl Quinn's ever seen walks down the middle aisle of the school bus and tugs on her teacher's shirtsleeve.

"Hey, Chelsea," Sam said. "What's up?"

She looked to be right on the border of upset and about to have a meltdown. "Mr. Evans, I don't feel good."

"Uh oh!" He put his hand against her forehead, feeling for a fever. "You're not gonna barf all over me are you?" He looked completely, totally invested. Quinn noted that the little girl seemed to like the attention.

"No!" she giggled, now smiling ear to ear.

"Whew! Just wanted to make sure. It's super early; lots of times I don't feel great in the mornings, either." And it was just after seven; a lot of the kids were sleeping in their seats. "You think you'd feel better if you sat with me and Ms. Fabray?"

She nodded fiercely so he put her between them. It was fairly clear that Quinn wasn't even there. They'd only been on the road for a few minutes before the little girl had nodded off, her head slumped against Sam's arm, his hand gripped tightly in hers. Quinn found herself grinning, it's the sweetest thing she's seen in a long time.

"How does it feel to be the object of adoration for an entire classroom of kids?"

Sam's cheeks reddened. "Most of them just want some attention. I think for the most part, kids aren't that complicated. You be cool to them and they'll be cool to you, you know?"

"You haven't had a bad one yet?"

"My dad says I was born yesterday, but I think most kids, probably all of them, are only bad because people have made them that way." He shifted a little to make the little girl more comfortable when her head started bouncing against the back of the seat. "I did my student teaching last year at an inner city school, they were really starved for resources. There was this one kid, he was a holy terror." The school bus buzzed with the chatter of kids, but he whispered anyway. "I used to dread seeing him. It was like, everything he could try to disrupt class, he'd give it a go. For a while I thought that this nine year old had made it his mission to convince me not to be a teacher."

He was interrupted to settle a dispute between two boys over the ownership of a rubber band. "Yeah, I'm definitely keeping this. I'm not losing my job when one of you loses an eye." The idea of putting out an eye is hilarious, and they return to their seats, giggling.

Sam turned his attention back to her. "So, this kid, uh, not my favorite person. But then one day, Social Services came to get him. The police had arrested the dad for sexually abusing his kids."

She didn't gasp, because it didn't surprise her, it was something you heard too often in the news. After a point, you became inured to hearing things like that. "Sam, that's horrible."

"I know. And up to that point I'd been annoyed with him. That kid was just reacting the only way he knew how. So," he met her eyes for the first time since starting his story about the abused child, "some of the older teachers think I'm being naive, but my teaching philosophy is to always be as nice and as kind as I can, because I don't know that anyone else is being kind to them."

"They're lucky to have you." She means that, sincerely.

"I'm lucky to have them. Teaching at a private school means I don't have to deal with a lot of the stuff I saw in my student teaching. These kids all have parents who love them, they're not wondering if there's going to be anything to eat when they get home. It's scary what some kids have to go through."

Thinking about it made her want to hug Alec close. That probably wouldn't be well received in front of his classmates, but the desire was there. Instead, she smiled at his teacher. "I'm glad Alec's in your class. Really glad."

XxXxX

She's never actually seen him teach before. Quinn doesn't know why she hadn't just given him the benefit of the doubt and assumed he'd be a great teacher. She already knew that he was amazingly nice, and that all the kids loved him. But seeing him on this field trip, watching him lead the kids around, she sees, in person, that he's actually an amazing teacher.

She feels kinda bad. It's probably because he's so young, but Quinn had never given much thought about the pedagogy side of things. But he's awesome.

The kids don't look away. They might be eight years old and have attention spans shorter than a gnat's life cycle, but they're all, every one of them, captivated by their teacher as he explains the plants they're seeing. Plants. And every single kid is interested.

"Um, you're kind of awesome at this."

All of the kids are finally seated with lunch in front of them, so Quinn guesses that she and Sam have at least two minutes before one of them needs something. Luckily, Alec goes to a private school with small class sizes, or else just two adults wouldn't be enough to chaperone a field trip.

Sam grinned sheepishly, his cheeks even rosier than normal. "Did you doubt me?"

"No." She pushed her apple slices around the plate; they were eating the same thing the kids were. "But I know this is your first year teaching. Most people take longer to get as good as you are."

His eyes twinkle and it's absolutely adorable. He really is the cutest boy she's ever seen. Man, she means. Cutest man.

"Hey, um, how's the washing machine doing?"

Quinn sort of likes that he's a little uncomfortable being praised. Some men are too comfortable with it. "It's working fine, thanks. No problems since you fixed it."

"I'm glad. Let me know if you ever have anything else you need looked at."

If he took off his shirt every time he fixed an appliance, she'd take a hammer to the oven as soon as she got home today.

Soon enough, a kid needs him for something, so Sam goes over to help. Seeing him help open a milk carton shouldn't be this hot.

XxXxX

Quinn's noticing that there's a pretty wide disparity in what it means to be an eight year old. Some of the students are fairly independent. Quinn's both proud, and a little sad, to note that Alec seems to be in this group. The other half of the class is still on the younger side of eight, at least when it comes to maturity level. This is not to say that they're ill-behaved, but they do require more attention, and, she's noticed, like to be babied by their teacher.

After lunch they brought the kids outside to a play area so they could run around and hopefully burn off some energy before the bus ride home. There was a minor casualty, and after Sam finished applying a completely unnecessary bandaid to a barely scraped knee, Quinn said, "She's got a crush on you."

Sam laughed. "How can you tell?"

"Women, no matter their age, don't just hang on men they're not interested in." The little girl had cried quite a bit after tripping, but perked up remarkably quickly after she had her teacher's undivided attention.

He chuckled. "Well, if that's true, I'm definitely her second choice."

"Oh, yeah?"

Sam nodded. "Ava's had her sights on your son for weeks now."

In Quinn's mind, her son is the sweetest boy ever born, so she can't be surprised. But he's her _baby_ boy. So, it's weird to even think that he might be old enough for a girl to like him, even if it is just an eight year old playground romance. This is her _baby._

"But Alec has zero lady skills," Sam said with a smirk. "She asked to sit by him and he told her that she was blocking his light and he couldn't read his book."

Quinn stifled a groan. Now that sounded like her son. "He can be kind of, uh, single minded sometimes."

"So can Ava. Yesterday she sat on him." Grinning broadly, Sam said, "He called her, and I'm quoting here, a worrisome shrew."

This time the groan escaped. "God, is my kid the weirdest one in your class?"

"At eight years old they're all weird. Your son just has the best vocabulary."

They're interrupted when Sam has to break up an illegal game of bloody knuckles. "Can I ask a favor?" Quinn says when they're back to walking amongst the playing students.

"Sure."

She notices how his eyes immediately turn earnest, like he can't see or hear anything but her. Quinn's seen him do this with his students, which explains why they all love him.

"Right now, they're all eight, so Alec's little quirks don't really matter much. But when they get a little older, kids aren't as nice."

Sam nods, listening.

"Just, if you don't mind, when he's being anti-social, could you just look out for him, maybe encourage him to be more outgoing? I try at home, but I'm his mom, and you know how kids are."

"In a few years, he won't mind it so much when a cute girl sits on him," Sam said, his lips just barely turning up at the edge. "But yeah, I watch out for all my kids." They reach a bench and he waits for her to sit first before joining her. "One of the reasons I wanted to teach third grade is because it's probably the last year before kids break up into their little cliques. There aren't cool kids and losers or whatever. Everyone's in the same group."

She had some level of expertise in cliques. Most of her own high school years had been devoted to keeping her head cheerleader job and claiming the prom queen crown. Looking back, it all seemed so dumb.

"But don't worry about Alec, I've got my eye on him." He leaned a little closer. "Can I tell you a secret?"

Quinn's skin tingled when he leaned so close to her ear.

"He's my favorite kid in class."

She smiled at that. "You're sweet."

"I know I am. But I'm not lying. You've got a great son."

XxXxX

They're a pretty well behaved class, but by the time they make it back to the school, she's exhausted from herding around a group of eight year olds all day. Quinn's ready to get home and then take a long bath. The only question is whether to reread _Outlander_ or to watch the show on her iPad as the hot water soaks away her fatigue.

It's easy to get Alec settled. She'd told him he wasn't allowed to bring anything to read on the field trip, so when they got back home he acted like a man stranded in the desert without water, and ran to his room for a book. Quinn was just about to go to her own bookshelf for some bath time reading when the doorbell rang.

She answered the door to find he son's teacher standing in the hallway.

"Um, hi?" Didn't she just see him half an hour ago?

"Hi," Sam smiled, looking kind of awkward. "Sorry to bother you, but Alec forgot his sweater on the bus today, and it's kinda chilly out, so I wanted to make sure he got it back."

Quinn looked at the lilac sweater in his hand. "That's very sweet of you, but that's not Alec's sweater." Obviously.

He shifted on his feet, like he was nervous about getting caught. "Uh, yeah, I know. I sorta just wanted an excuse to talk to you so I stole a random kid's sweater."

Oh. For real, what the hell's going on? The school has her number if they need anything.

"What did you need to talk to me about?" She'd enjoyed spending the day with him and his class, but seriously, now it's time to unwind, and Quinn can't imagine what he could possibly need right now. If something was up with her son, or his grades, or whatever, he'd had all day to tell her.

But that wasn't it.

"Um, would you like to do something tomorrow night?"

"Huh?" Do something? Yeah, she was planning on ordering pizza so she didn't have to cook for once. "What are you talking about?"

"You know, do something. You and me, at the same time, in the same place." Sam shrugged. "Maybe like a date."

It took a second to process the implications of the weird and strange words he was stringing together. When it set in, Quinn actually couldn't believe it.

"You're joking."

"Serious as a heart attack." He scratched at the back of his neck. "I want to go on a date with you."

What the hell could this kid really want? "You know that I'm thirty-nine, right?"

"I know that you're gorgeous." He groaned, slapped his hand over his eyes. "Sorry, that was probably coming on a little strong. I've been told that I have no game."

"Whoever said that was right." But that did feel nice, hearing that you're "gorgeous" from someone who actually is.

Sam grinned. "So, what do you say?"

Really, though, he cannot be serious. She can't even process what this could mean. "I honestly don't know what to say. You should know that I don't have an Instagram account, I don't really know what a meme is, and probably most importantly, I have a eight year old kid."

He counted off on his fingers, "I don't have an Instagram either, I can teach you what a meme is, and yeah, I know about your kid. We hang out every day for about eight hours."

"I'm old enough to be your mother."

"Only if you'd been a hot teen mom. And by the way, you are _nothing_ like my mother." He leaned against her doorway. "Just come out with me tomorrow night. We'll have dinner and see a movie. That doesn't sound too wild, right?"

Seventeen years. There were seventeen years between them. She'd been on her way to college the year he was born. He'd probably never owned a VCR. He'd always lived in a world with more than three _Star Wars_ movies. It was sort of knocking her own world off center that these facts meant nothing to him. She struggled for an out.

"Alec! I can't go out because I don't have anyone to stay with Alec." Whew.

He parried that aside with ease.

"Taken care of. My sister is the best babysitter in the city, comes with excellent references, and she's available tomorrow night. She's even visited my class before, so he already knows her."

Dammit. "You know that you're out of your mind, right?"

Sam winked and her stomach did a flip. Leaning a little closer, like he wanted to make sure that he could whisper and only she would hear, Sam said, "C'mon, say yes."

"Am I on Candid Camera or something?"

"God, you really _are_ old if you think that's still a thing." He leaned in ever closer, his eyes staring into hers. "I really like you, and I liked spending time with you today. Lemme take you out, just dinner. We can skip the movie."

"This is batshit crazy."

Sam shrugged and leaned his shoulder back into the doorframe. "Yeah, I'm not gonna respond to that anymore. You've just been telling me why you can't go out with me. You haven't said a word about not wanting to."

"I can't believe that _you'd_ want to go out with me!" This has got to be a joke. She's old, he's young, there's no way this can be real.

"Believe it. I stole an innocent child's sweater so I'd have a reason to come and talk to you."

"Absolutely crazy," she muttered under her breath. True to his word, he didn't argue that point.

He's just so beautiful, and so young, and so nice. Why isn't he dating a supermodel, or an actress, or a famous musician? Why in the world is he standing in her doorway?

"Are you really serious?"

He did nothing more than nod, just once.

Quinn looked over his shoulder, made sure there wasn't a camera crew waiting to put this on YouTube so everyone could laugh at her.

"God, _fine_." He was obviously crazy, and she couldn't expect to cure him while he was standing in the hall. "Just give that kid her sweater back."

"Awesome!" Sam's face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning, which, Quinn supposed, probably wasn't too far off. He pumped his fist in the air. "I'll pick you up at eight."

Eight? Who in their right mind went out that late? She'd usually brushed her teeth by then and had started rounding up Alec's flashlights so he couldn't stay up all night reading. She was in her pajamas by eight thirty, for God's sake.

Quinn pressed her back against the door after he'd left. "Holy shit, what have I done?"

 _To be continued . . ._

 **Thank you to the wonderful people who reviewed the last chapter! To anyone enjoying the story and thinking, "should I leave a review?" I'll just say that it really encourages me in my writing if I know that people care, even a little, about the story.**

 **Hope everyone enjoyed! More to come!**


	4. Chapter 4

Standing in front of the mirror, she changes her mind for the fourth time.

Quinn holds another dress to her front. "What do you think of this one?"

Alec's barely paying attention. He's sitting on the edge of her bed, playing one of his handheld video games. "Hmm," he said, without looking up.

"Alec . . ."

He sighs, annoyed at this latest interruption. "It looks fine, mom. The last one looked fine, too."

Of course, he's no help. Even at eight years old, a man is still a man. Quinn hangs the dress back up in the closet. If it didn't inspire awe in her son, the one person on earth who has to love her, then it probably won't do much for anyone else, either.

She's gone back and forth on whether she's actually going on this date or not. So far, she's considered a stomach flu, for either herself or for Alec, plus there's the possibility of a migraine, an emergency with her mother, or a burst water line.

Sam would probably volunteer to fix that last one. And then his shirt would get wet, and he'd have to take it off, and then, well, that didn't bear thinking about, not in front of her son, anyway.

Quinn reached for another dress. "You know, if you don't want me to go out with him tonight, I won't."

Alec shrugged, just as he'd done the first time she'd suggested that option. Her small son not wanting his mother to go out with his teacher would be the perfect excuse, one that Sam couldn't possibly argue with. As a mother, she had to keep her child's best interests in mind.

But the little traitor didn't seem to care.

"So you're ok with his sister staying with you while I'm out?"

For the first time, Alec seemed interested in what she was saying. He paused his game. "I like Stacy. She comes to our class sometimes. She's really pretty."

Hmm. Well, that's interesting. She's going on a date with a younger man and her son has the hots for an older woman. She could hire a camera crew because they've got the makings of a reality TV show.

"What about this?" Quinn held another dress to her chest. "Is this too much?" It was conceivable that one might perceive the neckline to be some variant of "plunging." But surely not too much. She's thirty-nine and fairly conservative in her attire; she doesn't own anything too scandalous.

"How is a dress too much? Too much what?"

She can't blame him for being eight and not understanding the subtle nuances of presentation and attire. Quinn can't just come out and ask her child if the dress makes her look easy.

"What would you think if you saw someone wearing this dress?"

"That they stole your dress."

She'd be irritated if she thought there was even the slightest chance he was being sarcastic. But her son doesn't really do sarcasm.

"Hey, what about you and Ava?" All this talk of dating had reminded Quinn of something Sam had said yesterday on the class field trip.

He looks confused.

"Sa —, uh, Mr. Evans said that she likes you, but you weren't very nice to her."

Alec rolled his eyes. He might not have a handle on sarcasm yet, but he was usually good for an eye roll. "She doesn't like me, mom. She's always pestering me and talking to me."

Men. "Sweetie, that's how I know she likes you."

He makes a face that says that this means nothing to him, he doesn't understand, and he has no intention of learning. "Well, I don't like her."

"You don't have to like her, but you do have to be polite." Quinn made a snap decision to go with the dress with the definitely not plunging neckline. She'd pair it with a sweater. That seemed safe.

"And if Ava does want to talk to you, it won't kill you to put down your book for a minute for a minute and make conversation."

"I'd rather read my book."

"And I'd rather stay in tonight, but life's full of things we don't want to do." She got the dress on and walked over to her son. "Zip me up?"

She went to the bathroom to finish her makeup. There was still time for some emergency to pop up and keep her from actually going out on a date with a guy who is twenty-two years old. The number seventeen keeps flashing through her mind. She's seventeen years older than this guy, and he asked her for a date.

Her stomach's in open revolt when the doorbell finally rings, promptly at eight o'clock.

There's a mirror in the hall and she checks one more time. The sweater looks puritanical; she tosses it. Go big or go home. Reaching for the doorknob, Quinn's hit with another dose of last minute anxiety. What if she's overdressed? He's young, young people don't dress up, do they? What if she looks like she's trying too hard? What if she looks like she's not trying hard enough?

There's nothing to do about it now. Maybe the world will end before she opens the door. That's the best case scenario.

But it appears that God is holding off on Armageddon, probably just to annoy her. Quinn opens the door to find her date, along with a very pretty blonde girl.

"Hey!"

God, he's handsome. Sam's wearing a dark blue jacket with a white shirt, open at the collar. She's only really seen him at work or on a Friday night at the bookstore, where his hair's just a little shaggy, but now it's combed to the side. He looks like he just stepped off a runway in Milan.

"You look beautiful," he said, smile going ear to ear. The blonde girl elbowed him. "Oh, this is my sister, Stacy."

"I hope he's not so dorky that it's off-putting," she says with a grin that looks remarkably like her brother's.

Alec pops up just then, looking remarkably more interested than he might usually be to meet someone who isn't a book or a video game. "Hi, Stacy."

Quinn notices that the teenager shares more with her brother than just their smile. She has that way about her that makes you think you're the absolute center of her attention. It explains why the eight year old so obviously has a crush.

But she likes the girl, too, so she's not nearly so anxious about leaving Alec in her care. "So, you know his bedtime, and you've got my number." Quinn's listing things off on her fingers. "And he's already eaten tonight, but if he wants a snack there's fruit in the refrigerator. Make sure he brushes his teeth, and —"

"I'll be fine, _mom._ "

Maybe, but the longer she drags this out, the more time she has before she's actually alone with a guy who's unbelievably hot and unbelievably young. Alec's not on any medications, but maybe she should list his vaccination history?

"I think they've got everything under control," Sam said. He put his hand on her elbow. "Ready to go?"

No. But she can't think of anything else to say, so they head out the door.

XxXxX

He's totally at ease. There are a hundred idiotic country songs about the experienced older woman "making a man" out of the young farmhand, all of which make her skin crawl, particularly now. But Sam doesn't seem inexperienced. She envies his confidence.

"So," he said, smiling from across the table, "I know your son is awesome, I think so, too." Sam took a sip of his beer. "But I think there's more to Quinn Fabray, you know?"

She had been babbling about Alec for a while, Quinn realized. It was sort of a defense mechanism, a way to keep the lens off of her. "Sorry, I haven't been on a first date in nearly twenty years."

Sam cocked an eyebrow. "Ah, you said "first" date. Does that mean I'll get a second date?"

She's definitely not going to answer _that._ She'd let him talk her into this weird experiment, and there was no way that it could possibly go on for very long. They'd have dinner, and surely her babbling would reveal to him that he was interested in a woman who was closer in age to his parents than to him.

Instead she said, "Seeing you with beer is weird to me."

"Is that another crack about how young I look? I can show you my ID."

"No, though it was funny when the server carded you." Quinn relaxed, just a little, talking about him instead of her. "Before tonight I've only seen you eat baby carrots with apple juice." His class had snack time every day, and the school was pretty strict about what you could feed the students.

"The apple juice is better for me. Gotta watch the abs, you know? You've seen them, they're pretty awesome, right?"

She was inclined to wholeheartedly agree, but then a thought occurred to her. "The other night, did you get your shirt wet on purpose?"

"No!" But the blush on his cheeks and the guilty curve of his lips gave him away. "But it didn't hurt, did it?"

She really didn't mean to snort into her drink.

XxXxX

"You're joking."

Sam smirked. "Nope. I happen to be great at baseball, and I wanted a chance to show off."

Evidently his friend works at a country club, and Sam's able to get them in after hours to use the batting cage. Quinn can admit that she hasn't been on a date in years, but surely this isn't how the kids are doing it nowadays.

"So, I'm supposed to be impressed by seeing you hit a ball?"

"Would it help if I took off my shirt?"

Yes, but she's not going to say that. He hands her his jacket before taking up position with the bat. He's wearing one of those dress shirts, with the really thin material, and she can see his bicep clench as he holds the bat.

And maybe he is right. It is sort of impressive, to watch someone do something that they're obviously good at. Sam hits one ball after the other. There's a cracking sound the bat makes when the ball hits; it fills the air. But then he turns to her. "Your turn."

"Um, no." Like, no way in hell. She was a cheerleader in school, and that was about as sporty as she ever got.

"C'mon, just one time."

"No." Because, just no. She's not going to embarrass herself in front of him.

"Quinn . . ."

She crosses her arms, determined.

"I'm gonna pout, and there's nothing more uncomfortable than watching a grown man pout."

He's using the term "grown man" a tad loosely. "If I do it one time, can we leave?"

His face crashes. He suddenly looks really, truly hurt. "Are you really not having a good time?"

And now she feels guilty. He looks like a puppy after you've accidentally stepped on his tail. "Fine, give me the bat."

The smile returns almost instantly, and she has to wonder if he was playing her.

"Oh, God, no," Sam says after she takes up what she thinks is a fair approximation of the correct stance. "That won't work at all."

Sam jogs up behind her and suddenly it's like he's all around her. "Like this." He stands just behind her, his arms over hers, moving them along the neck of the baseball bat. "And stand like this." He puts his hands on her hips and moves her, slightly, into position.

And he doesn't move away.

Quinn would turn to look at him, but his face is so close to hers, she'd probably hit his cheek. "You know that this is exactly like every cliched romantic comedy ever made, right?"

His hands are still on her hips and it must be hot enough in here to fry an egg.

"I know. Have you ever seen a romantic comedy where the guy _didn't_ get the girl in the end?"

That might be the case, but Quinn's fairly sure that there's never been a rom com where the girl swings her bat at the ball, but then her elbow hits the guy in the face.

That doesn't make for good cinema.

XxXxX

Quinn pulls the icepack away from his face. "It's actually kind of hot."

The skin around his left eye is darkening, but it sort of toughens up his pretty face, a little. They're in the country club's employee break room, which evidently doubled as a nurse's station, hence the icepack.

"Maybe you could kiss it, make it better?"

"I hate to break it to you, but that doesn't actually work." But she did feel sort of bad for inadvertently bashing his face in.

"So you're telling me that if Alec got a booboo you wouldn't kiss it?"

"He's eight." Quinn pushed his bangs away from his forehead and readjusted the icepack. "But I'm really sorry."

Sam shrugged and leaned back into the plastic chair. "You didn't mean to. And hey, what guy can complain when a beautiful girl touches him? Even if it happens to be her elbow in his eye."

"Do you have an off switch?"

But she did technically assault him, so Quinn doesn't complain when he holds her hand on the way out.

XxXxX

He still had her hand in his as they walked to her apartment. "Did you have a good time tonight?"

She'd always found it difficult to reveal herself, to give herself away. Even what she was feeling, it was tempting to keep it a mystery. "I felt like people were looking at me."

"Have you seen a mirror? People are going to look at you."

She blushed, but grinned a little, too. "No, I mean, like, looked at me like I'm the crazy older lady with a boytoy."

"Hmm, boytoy. That sounds hot."

She punched his arm, but not very hard.

"Well, you can keep how you felt a secret if you like, but I had a great time, and I'm going to think about you each time I blink and it hurts."

"You're never going to let me live this down, are you?"

"Nope."

They arrive in front of her door and Sam turns to her. He's taller and looks down at her, his lips just barely turned up at the corner of his mouth.

Quinn can't make herself believe that he's going to kiss her. It's an insane prospect, even if she hadn't given him a black eye. There is no way that this young, hot guy is going to kiss her.

And he doesn't.

He just stands there and smiles at her, and she's relieved, because it would have been too much, too fast. The last time she'd kissed a man who wasn't her husband was back in college. So it would be a lot to process, and she's already feeling _way_ too many feelings. It was a good thing that it looked like he was going to leave that off.

But then he didn't.

It was soft and unexpected. Brief, but there was no doubt or room for confusion. He let his hand stop on her upper arm. It ended quickly, but the look on his face said that he got what he wanted.

His eyes were dark when he whispered, "I've been waiting for that all night."

She's not a lovestruck teenager, and her knees aren't weak, or anything trite like that. But after she says good night, thanks the babysitter, and kisses her sleeping son, it takes Quinn a long time to fall asleep.

XxXxX

"Details!"

Quinn held the phone away from her head so that her best friend's screeching didn't rupture her eardrum.

"Kitty, it was just a regular, normal first date. Nothing to write home about."

"You told me you weren't interested in getting laid."

"I'm not!" She's completely alone in the room and still she blushes at even the thought.

"Well, what does he do?"

"He's a teacher."

"Ah, so he's good with kids, and you happen to have a kid. It'll be an easier adjustment when you two get married."

"Were you dropped on your head as a child?"

"Twice, but that's neither here nor there." There's an intake of breath on the other end of the line before she released the next deluge of questions. "Is he hot?"

Gorgeous, beautiful, the most handsome man she's ever seen. "He's not ugly," Quinn allows.

"How did you meet him?"

"Um," she knows what's going to happen next if she tells. "He's actually Alec's teacher."

There's the clicking sound of fingers on a keyboard. "What are you doing?" Quinn asked, though she already knew.

"I'm looking at the school's website." And there's the gasp. "Oh. My. God."

Quinn grimaces. It's coming.

"Lucy Quinn Fabray. Oh. My. God."

She's never going to live this down.

"He's a fetus!"

"He's not _that_ young . . ."

"Did you have to buy the alcohol last night? _Oh! My! God!_ You went on a date with a fetus! The most gorgeous fetus I've ever seen in my life!"

She grins, in spite of herself. "Sam's twenty-two, so he's legally an adult, and he asked me out, not the other way around."

Her friend's still reeling on the other end of the line. "I, I just can't even process this. You were married to that ass for so long, and then right out of the gate you've bagged the Adonis of elementary school teachers. No, the Adonis of men, all men."

"I haven't bagged anyone, for your information."

"Whatever. Have you seen him naked yet? Oh, God, what does he look like naked? Tell me about his dick, Quinny. Is it huge? He looks like he'd have a huge dick."

"No, I haven't seen him naked, weirdo. I actually gave him a black eye last night."

It takes a few minutes to explain how that came about, and the narrative isn't helped along by Kitty's constant gasping and wheezing.

"He wants you! He was right behind you, with his hands on your hips! God, Helen Keller would have been able to tell that he wants to pork you!"

"He doesn't want to pork me. I'm seventeen years older. He could pork a supermodel if he wanted."

"But he didn't ask a supermodel to go out with him, did he? He asked you. You're hot, and you need to accept that fact."

Quinn purposefully doesn't respond to that. She might have been hot in college, well, she knew she was hot in college, but that was a long time ago.

"Are you going out with him again?"

"Should I?" She's asked herself that very question about fifty times since last night.

"What are you talking about? Of course you should!"

"But it can't really go anywhere?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. He's twenty-two, I'm thirty-nine. I have a kid. There's no where this can really lead."

"Uh, duh, I'd say it could lead to you riding his naked, nubile body like a stallion, with hot, young man flesh under your fingers, and a throbbing cock in your —"

"I'm hanging up if you keep talking like that."

Before Kitty can start in on a new line of, probably obscene, discussion, Quinn said, "And besides, he hasn't even asked me to go out with him again. He might not. Probably won't."

Is it weird that she sort of hopes he does?

 _To be continued . . ._

 **Thanks for the reviews! Keep them coming and I'll keep writing!**


	5. Chapter 5

She's rarely on Facebook, so she forgot to block her ex-husband. Quinn only realizes the magnitude of that mistake when she sees the ultrasound pictures.

She was twenty-four when they got married, so the issue of children hadn't felt pressing, not at the time. Quinn had known that she wanted kids, and Don hadn't seemed particularly interested, but they were in their early twenties with a lifetime ahead of them, so she hadn't thought much of it. They had time.

But his mind never changed. At one point she'd actually begged him, but he'd still said no. And she wasn't the type of woman to "forget" to take her birth control. Quinn had thought they were in love, despite their differences on that one big issue, so she wasn't going to try to trick him into having a baby.

Alec really was an accident. Antibiotics messed with her birth control. And it was the best thing that had ever happened to her. Don hadn't been happy, but Quinn would never accuse him of being a bad father, either. He loved his son, even if he'd never wanted children.

Which makes her all the angrier to see him posting to Facebook about how happy he is to be a father for the second time. It makes her furious. He'd called to tell her the news, and that's what led to her getting blackout drunk. She'd been sad, then. Now she was just mad.

Seeing how much he loved Alec, Quinn had said that they should try for another baby, a few years after. But he was just as cold to the idea as ever.

But these days he's father of the year because his girlfriend got pregnant, probably in the bed he'd shared with his wife for fifteen years. That's where Quinn caught him. He'd had another woman in their bed. He hadn't even had the decency to do it in a hotel room.

She's not going to get drunk again. That had been stupid, and worse, it had let him win, let him get to her. Quinn took one last look at the ultrasound, decided his future kid has an odd shaped head, and blocked her ex-husband on Facebook. She felt a little cleaner afterwards.

XxXxX

Alec goes to a private school, so parents can pretty much come and go as they please, based in large part on the size of the checks they write. Her checks are pretty big, thanks to the divorce settlement and the success of her former father-in-law's advertising company.

Quinn knows when he goes to lunch and decides that eating with the sweetest boy in the world is just what she needs.

Truly, it's a little strange having so much free time during the day. For the first seven years of her marriage, she'd worked full-time at Don's family's advertising agency, and then part time after Alec was born. And it wasn't nepotism. Her degree was in graphic design, and Quinn was proud of her accomplishments. She was good. But she couldn't work there after the divorce, even though her in-laws had taken her side after their son's reprehensible behavior. She had to get away.

"Have you learned anything interesting today?" she asks Alec over cafeteria spaghetti.

He nodded as he slurped a string of pasta between his lips. "We learned about George Washington. I've already read two books about him, but Mr. Evans was funny."

Oh, Mr. Evans. She hadn't forgotten about him.

"And, um, how is Mr. Evans today?" She's just curious.

"He's got a black eye! He said that he tripped when he went jogging."

Alec had been asleep when Sam had brought her home from their date, so he had no idea how dangerous his mother's elbow could be.

Speak of the devil, the aforementioned Mr. Evans just happened to walk into the cafeteria. Quinn's a little pleased with how quickly his mouth turns up at the edges when he spots her. It's probably just the joy of being reunited with his students after being away for twenty minutes.

"Ms. Fabray, nice to see you."

"It's nice to see you, too."

"You heard we were having spaghetti today and just couldn't keep away?"

"That's it." The spaghetti tastes fairly close to wet cardboard.

"Hey, um, my class always goes to art after lunch, and we really appreciate parental involvement here, so if you wanted to help me out with organizing some books during my free period, I'd really appreciate it."

"I could help, too," Alec squeaked.

"You need to learn about art," Sam said. "You can make something for your mom."

When they're alone out in the hall, Sam leads her to his classroom. "I really wanted to call you over the weekend, but I thought it would seem a little pushy."

"Oh, yeah?"

He holds open the door for her. "So, I planned to call you tonight."

"And what did you want to talk about? Everything ok with Alec's schoolwork?"

"You're hilarious." He closed the door and his hand found hers. "I had a really good time Friday night."

"Even after your jogging accident?" The way his thumb's rubbing her knuckles is making her skin tingle. That's probably not a good sign.

Sam grinned sheepishly. His eye's dark, though what she said after it happened still rings true. It's kind of hot, actually.

"I brought you something." Quinn took her hand back and dug around in her purse until she found a slim white tube. "Arnica," she said. "Twice a day. It'll help your bruise."

"So, I guess you didn't come to school today just to have lunch with Alec?"

"I thought there might be a chance I'd run into you." God, she hasn't flirted with anyone in years. Quinn hopes she's not totally screwing up.

"I'm glad you did." He's leaning against his desk at the head of the classroom. "So, um, maybe it won't be as hard to convince you to go on a second date?"

As hard as it was to convince her to go on the first date, he meant. And it had been a hard sell. She still can't really believe it.

"The idea of you wanting to go out with me is still crazy," Quinn said.

He shrugged. "So I'm a tiny bit younger than you. What's the big deal?"

"I'll admit I'm concerned that you teach my son math and you seem to think that you're only a "tiny bit" younger than me."

"I don't have a witty comeback to that." But he did stand up and take her hand again, and then the other, too. "I just know that I really liked kissing you the other night, and I want to do it again."

"We're standing in an elementary school." He's so close, looking down into her eyes.

"I'd kiss you anywhere," and then, "I'm sorry, that was too corny, even for me."

"It was," she agreed.

"But can I?"

Quinn nodded.

He leaned down and kissed her. It's light, like the first time, because you don't kiss passionately in a third grade classroom. But she still likes it.

Sam's smiling when he pulls back. It seems like he's smiling every time she looks at him. "So, about that second date?"

She must be a glutton for punishment.

XxXxX

It doesn't even seem real. It can't be real. Going on a second date meant they were dating, right? Maybe? She doesn't know how that works anymore. She can't be _dating_ a hot twenty-two year old. But here she is, riding the elevator up to his apartment.

The only reason she's not jittery, well, even more jittery, is that she has Alec with her. Sam had invited them both to have dinner at his house. And the things Quinn remembers from dating, an eternity ago, things like kissing on the couch, dry humping in the backseat, those can't happen with her kid present. So this is safe. This is fine. She hopes.

His apartment is nice. It's clean, but not weirdly clean. It kind of looks like he straightened up because he knew she was coming over. There are pictures on the walls, and she wonders if he chose them, or if his mother handled the decorating.

After Alec had called him "Mr. Evans" for the third time, Sam said, "You can call me Sam when we're not at school."

"That sounds weird."

But it didn't matter much once he saw the X-Box and sixty inch TV on the wall.

"I can take you on the grand tour while he's occupied." Sam slid his arm around her waist. Evidently they're to that stage now.

There's a medium sized bookshelf with textbooks and and binders, all about teaching and lesson plans, Quinn assumes. And there's also something called _The Essential Star Wars Guide to Planets,_ so that's an interesting fun fact about the guy who currently has his hand on her person.

"And of course this is where the magic happens." His bedroom is clearly a man's. A large bed, though neatly made up, Quinn notes, with a TV on the wall. Everything is in very masculine colors and the decorating is sparse. It looks like there's an adjacent bathroom.

She decides to ignore the quip about the "magic." He really doesn't seem like the type of guy to sleep around, even though his face could drop the pants of any woman in the world.

"Last stop is the kitchen," Sam said, guiding her by the elbow. "This is actually where the magic happens. I'm pretty good."

"I think you're pretty sure of yourself."

He has reason to be. The food, like the apartment, is masculine, but it's good. She watches him toss a salad, and then they have grilled chicken with roasted potatoes. Alec, one of the pickier eaters in the state, eats everything. So does Quinn.

But she doesn't overeat, because she's on a date, and she doesn't want her stomach making weird nosies later. Because you can't just leave right after dinner.

"These are from my mom's recipe," Sam said, pulling chocolate chip cookies from the oven.

"You don't look like someone who eats a lot of cookies."

Sam winked at her. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"What do you mean, mom? How does Mr. Evans not look like he eats cookies?"

Quinn's face heats up. You can't just shamelessly flirt with your eight year old son in the room. "Uh, nothing." She's not going to tell him that his teacher has a hot body. Not that she knows, not really. She's only seen it for a couple seconds, in her laundry room. "I was just joking."

It turns out that Sam's Amazon library is filled with movies that would entertain most eight year olds, including her son. While he watches _Jurassic World,_ Quinn finds herself back in the kitchen, helping Sam clean up.

"What made you decide to become a teacher?"

He's at the sink, washing and handing dishes to her to dry. "Hmm, I've always liked kids. Some people might say I still am one."

Quinn doesn't know if that's a dig at her or not.

"But I didn't figure out what I was going to do until college." He handed her a plate to dry. "Can I tell you something embarrassing?"

She nods.

"For a long time I wanted to be a model."

She can't imagine why he'd be embarrassed. He looked like he'd have a fair chance of making it big in the modeling world. More than a fair chance.

"Why didn't you pursue that?"

"Not very realistic, is it?"

Quinn's not just going to come out and say that he's gorgeous. "Is your first year as a teacher going like you thought it would?"

He's got his sleeves rolled up and looks like he'd fit perfectly as the centerfold for any magazine she can imagine. "Nothing with kids ever goes like you think it will, but I love my job." Sam dried his hands, the last dish clean. "I've met some interesting people."

There's a tingling in her stomach when he looks at her like that.

"And what about you? What are Quinn Fabray's skills and passions?"

She tells him about her previous life in graphic design and advertising, explains how she slimmed down her day job after Alec was born.

"So, those pictures in your apartment? The drawings? Did you do those?"

He remembered seeing those? "A few of them."

"They look amazing!"

Quinn blushes. She's noticed that nothing is ever just "nice" with him. It's amazing, or awesome, or some other slang word that she can't remember right now because she's been out of the slang loop for too long.

"Do you think you'll start working again?"

Now that she's divorced, Quinn's sure he means. "I don't know. It's kind of a scary thought."

"You've obviously got the talent."

She gives him a smile for that. "I don't want to do nothing for the rest of my life, but it just seems like everything is still so up in the air." Aside from the divorce and the move, evidently she's being pursued by a guy these days. There's so much to process.

"You should take your time, don't rush into anything."

"Like new relationships?"

Sam sticks his tongue out at her. "I see what you did there." He moves closer to her. "But I don't think we're rushing, do you?"

Most things felt fast after you'd been for the same person for twenty years. She'd met her husband in college, started dating at nineteen, married him at twenty-four. Doing anything at all with another man is a whirlwind.

It feels like she's drag racing and the crash could happen at any second.

XxXxX

Alec's still occupied with the movie when Sam takes her out to his small balcony.

"The view sucked until about two months ago when they knocked down an old building. Now that it's awesome, I'm just waiting for the rent to go up."

And it is really nice. There's a park nearby, and glittering streetlights everywhere. The sound of the city is like a dull roar in the background. Sam sits down on a bench and tugs at her hand until she sits next to him.

"So, pretty romantic out here, huh?" His arm goes around her shoulder.

"Pretty sure of yourself, huh?" But she likes the arm.

"Should I feel optimistic?"

Quinn let's him play with her hand. "Can I ask you something?"

Sam nods and keeps running his thumb across her knuckles, his other arm still around her shoulders, gently but insistently keeping her against his side.

"Where do you see this going?"

"What do you mean?"

"You, you keep asking me out on dates, you seem to be interested in me. So where is it going to lead?" That's been at the forefront of her mind. Where can this crazy experiment possibly lead?

"Wow. I haven't really thought about it like that. The fun part's being surprised by where it goes."

Straight from the mouth of a twenty year old. "When you have a child, and you're not in your twenties anymore, you find that you like a little more planning and certainty."

"I get that." Sam's hand on her arm rubs slowly, up and down. "I don't know where it's going to go. I just know that I really like you, and that I won't do anything to hurt you."

She'd never thought that he would, not intentionally. "Has anyone ever told you that you talk like a character from a teen soap opera?"

"Is that good or bad?"

"It's sweet."

She turns into his side a little, gives in to what he wants and snuggles closer. Quinn can feel his cheek against her hair. She likes how he's bigger than her, how he seems to fold around her. "You're right. It is sort of romantic out here."

XxXxX

His lips are slow but insistent. Sam kisses down her jaw, then her neck. His lips feel amazing on her throat. Everything is warm and heavy, like they're under a blanket against the cold outside. Quinn only stops it when his hand strays from her knee to go higher.

"I'm sorry," he mutters, pulling back a little. His cheeks are blotched with bright pink, and his eyes are wider than usual.

She's in his lap, and she doesn't get up, though she does lean back to straighten her hair. He'd run his fingers through it. "It's alright." No, she's definitely not breathing hard. Well, not very hard. "It's just, Alec's right in there, so . . ."

Sam nods. "I understand. I won't ever do anything to make you uncomfortable."

There he goes again. His age makes her uncomfortable. His looks make her uncomfortable. His body makes her uncomfortable. His interest in her makes her uncomfortable, because she can't understand it. But she's finding that those thoughts, any thoughts at all, flee her head when his lips touch her.

"Hey, um, at work today I overheard the short people talking about the new Lego movie." He pushed his hair back away from his eyes. "Maybe on Friday I could take you and Alec to see it?"

God, is he really so sweet that he's willing to make a date out of entertaining her son? Now she wants to kiss him again, but it's nearly nine, and both Alec and Sam have school tomorrow.

He walks them down to their car. He'd told Alec that he could borrow his _Star Wars_ book, so no one's watching when Sam leans through the driver's side window and kisses her quickly on the lips.

"Watch out for crazy drivers, and text me when you get home."

Boy, things are moving quickly.

XxXxX

She gets a text message from him the next day.

 _U on snapchat? Wanna show you what a kid brought to show & tell today_

Snapchat? The only thing she knows about Snapchat is that when it first came out, it was all over the news that teenagers were using it to send pictures of their boobs. But Quinn doesn't want to appear hopelessly out of date, so she does a quick Google search.

Which tells her absolutely nothing useful.

Evidently she can take a picture of herself and put dog ears on her head, but there's nothing that tells her how to look at one of these things, or why she'd want to. Quinn gives up. If he really does like her, he'll have to get over the fact that she doesn't know how to do anything.

 _Can you text me a picture? I'm too cool for Snapchat._

It's probably another old person trait that she punctuates her text messages, but he gets back to her quickly.

 _Lol!_

Followed by the three little dots, and then:

Quinn snickers. He sent her a picture of black, fluffy handcuffs.

 _she said they r her parents favorite toy! Ive gotta call the mom today :(_

Kids can be mortifying. Once when he was three, Alec had loudly announced, right in the middle of a crowded restaurant, that he had to "POOP!"

 _I hope Alec didn't bring anything like that!_

He's pretty quick with an answer.

 _So u have some of those?_

Her face goes hot. _That is not what I meant, and you know it. Shouldn't you be teaching right now?_

 _Lol! my padawans r at music class_ She has to Google "Padawans." _Alec brought a book so ur safe_

Quinn's glad to know her vibrator's still safely hidden in the back of her bedroom closet and not being paraded in front of a third grade class as her "favorite toy." Sam texts her again before she can respond.

 _Cant wait to see you Friday!_

Friday being their third date. She doesn't know what people are doing these days, but she distinctly remembers what the third date meant back in college. She'd made Don wait longer, but all the movies and sitcoms, all the jokes and the rest, made clear what the third date was all about.

The thought of being naked in front of him is terrifying. She'd seen him shirtless, and can only imagine that the rest of him lives up to expectations, while she's nearly forty and has had a baby. Quinn keeps in shape, but still.

Surely he doesn't expect _that_ of her. And he's not the kind of guy, she doesn't think, who would be upset if she didn't put out immediately. He won't pressure her, she's sure of that. But surely he doesn't expect _that._

But eventually? If he really is interested in her, then he probably doesn't plan on just being close friends and holding hands. The thought fills her with a mix of trepidation and excitement, in both cases because he's so attractive. It's intimidating and it's thrilling. He'd kissed her last night, really kissed her, and she wanted more of that. But she's afraid of keeping up.

She's got to text him back now if she doesn't want to be rude. Quinn settles for an emoji that looks like it's smiling, but the smile doesn't seem too lascivious, she hopes. She'd forgotten that romance was just a fancy word for minefield.

XxXxX

It's just after nine when they get back from the movies, but Alec had fallen asleep in the car on the way home. He didn't stir when Sam carried him upstairs and into his bedroom.

Quinn's not going to comment on just how extremely hot it is to see him holding her small child to his chest, taking care of him. She took an anthropology class in college, so she knows it's just a biological reaction to seeing someone who looks like they'd be competent at propagating the species. Damn, she doesn't need to be thinking about propagating the species.

Sam lays Alec down on his bed and they each start untying a shoe. "I wish it was this easy every night," Quinn whispered. "Usually I've got to search his room for books and his iPad so he doesn't stay up all night reading."

"What a little criminal." Standing at the foot of the bed, he pulled up the sheets and handed them to her so that she could settle them around her son's shoulders. Quinn noticed him smiling when she kissed Alec's forehead.

She shut the bedroom door behind them and turned to find Sam with his hands in his pockets.

"So," he said, "it's still early . . ."

"Only someone who's twenty-two and childless would think 9:15 was early. Usually by this time I feel like a walking corpse."

"Hmm, you carry the corpse look pretty well." He put his hands on her hips and she's a little surprised that it doesn't bother her. This is technically their third date, but she just realized that until now he'd barely touched her at all, probably due to the fact that her son has been with them all evening.

The guy who teaches her son, the guy who was born the same month she moved into her college dorm, leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.

Her favorite thing about sharing this with him is that he really does share. Some men try to own you with their mouths; it's like they want to eat your face. But with him, she can tell that he's making it about her. He might start it, but he lets her lead. It doesn't hurt that she can feel the way he's obviously holding himself back, like he wants more but is waiting for her to give it.

But they're standing just outside her son's bedroom, and he doesn't push it.

Quinn put her hand against his chest. She can feel his heart through his shirt. "I know, um," she looked down at his shoes. "I know what's supposed to happen on the third date, but, I just don't think . . ." She hopes he won't make her actually say it.

He doesn't.

"I don't know what you had in mind," though obviously he does. "But I was hoping we could maybe watch a movie that's not a cartoon, and definitely not in any way educational."

That does sound kind of nice, and it would be rude to send him packing before ten pm, even though she'd be perfectly happy with going to bed right now. Alone, she meant. Not going to bed with anyone in particular.

Her living room is dark but for the glow of the screen. His arm starts out stretched across the back of the couch. He's long and she's noticed that he's always spread out, whenever he's sitting. After the opening credits of _Indiana Jones,_ his pick, not hers, Quinn felt his arm go lower, around her shoulders. He pulled her closer to him, into his side, while his eyes never left the TV.

She'd almost had sex one time with her high school boyfriend, but that had been a bust, and then in college she'd met Don. That was it. She was very nearly forty and her sexual experience could be summed up in a sentence. And now, she's pretty sure that this person next to her, this amazingly attractive, amazingly young, person, has designs of that nature, even if he's not currently pressing. The thought makes her stomach hurt. The thought makes certain other places tingle.

But it feels good against his side. Sometimes, like right now, he doesn't "feel" so much younger. He's taller, his shoulders are broader. He's got large hands and long fingers. His long legs are pushed out in front of them, feet crossed at the ankles. Quinn feels embarrassed for wondering if the big hands and big feet myth might be true. She pushes that thought away and takes his left hand in hers.

She doesn't interrupt him watching the movie, though he clearly notices and doesn't say anything. There are little blonde hairs on the back of his hand, turning a little thicker up his arm. Quinn remembers when he took off his wet shirt, the wispy blonde hair under his arm. God, it was just an armpit. Who gets worked up over an armpit? She's probably a pervert.

Sam sinks a little lower into the couch, pushes his legs out straighter. Quinn turns her shoulder into him and rests her head against his chest. She can feel him kiss her hair, just once, lightly. This is nice, really nice. She feels comfortable.

XxXxX

Quinn wakes to find herself still pressed to his side. Sam's asleep. Quinn can see his eyelashes against his face under the stark blue glare of the TV. His arm's wrapped around her middle, hand on her stomach. She can see from his watch that it's three in the morning.

It's not even sappy to say that he looks like an angel. The blonde hair, the rosy cheeks and milky white skin. He's got eyelashes long like a girl's. He just needs a white robe and a halo. Quinn finds that she liked sleeping on him. He's warm and firm. There's a flashback to him standing in her laundry room, wet and shirtless. Quinn can feel her face heat. She's just had her face pressed to those muscles.

She can feel his breathing change as he starts to wake. Sam smiles when his eyes open and he sees her.

"Not a bad way to wake up." His hand rubs her back. "I think I accidentally spent the night. I guess I ought to go."

The words fall out of her mouth. "You should just stay."

He thinks she means on the couch. The surprise, for both of them, is that she doesn't.

Quinn takes his hand and leads him to her bedroom.

 _To be continued . . ._

 **Will they or won't they? Find out next time!**

 **As always, thank you to everyone who left a review, particularly to the two anonymous reviewers — I really appreciate when people point out specific things in the story they liked (or didn't like, as it happens). Thanks so much! I hope everyone liked this chapter.**


	6. Chapter 6

He shuts her bedroom door behind them and it's the loudest sound she's ever heard in her life. It's like a gunshot in the otherwise silent apartment, a crash, glass shattering, the plate dropped in the darkened kitchen when you're sneaking a midnight snack. It echoes, in her ears, if in no one else's.

They're alone in a bedroom and the intent is obvious. Quinn's trying to keep her breathing in check, realizes she's probably failing miserably. She hopes she's not panting like a dog.

Sam turns from the door to face her. "Umm —"

She interrupts him. "I don't want to talk about it. I might lose my nerve."

He's taller than her, has to look down into her eyes. Sam's fingers barely brush down her forearm to take her hand in his. "It shouldn't be like that. We don't have to do anything."

Quinn swallows. "I want to, I think. You're just, just . . ." So intimidatingly gorgeous? So young? And she's, what? Nearly forty? Has slept with one guy in her life, so maybe she's been doing it wrong? Who knows how they're doing it these days?

Suddenly, she can't.

"Would you be mad if we didn't, tonight?" He'd probably have reason to be irritated. He'd been prepared to go home, and then she'd invited him to stay, pulled him to her bedroom. There's only one conclusion you could draw from that.

"Of course I wouldn't be mad." He squeezed her hand. "You don't owe me anything."

She's supposed to be the experienced adult here. He's an adult, too, but it's almost by default. Why is she the one with the doubts and reservations, the insecurities and the hangups?

"I feel like an idiot. I want," she doesn't really want to say it, " _that_ , but then when the door shut, I didn't know."

Sam nods. Men aren't supposed to be this understanding, at least not in her experience. They're supposed to pout and make passive aggressive comments, try to make you feel guilty.

"It's a big step" he said, his hand still holding hers, "Maybe we're moving a little fast, you know?"

Quinn stared down at their feet. "I probably sound like some air-brained teenager who doesn't know what she wants."

"You sound like you're watching out for yourself because you don't want to get hurt. There's nothing wrong with that."

She met his eyes again. He looks so sweet, eyes so round, smiling just so. "I swear that before you came over here, the scriptwriters for _One Tree Hill_ or _Dawson's Creek_ gave you a bunch of lines to use on me."

He smirked. "If this was one of those shows, we'd be having sex in the rain right now, probably on a boat, with a late nineties ballad playing in the background."

Quinn's caught off guard when a laugh escapes her lips.

"I really do like you."

"I really like you, too," Sam said. He leaned in to kiss her lips. "I'll go home, but maybe I can see you again before Monday?"

"That would be nice."

He squeezed her hand. "Then I can't wait."

She follows him to the front door and kisses him again before he leaves. With anyone else she would have felt stupid, would have known how annoyed he would be with her. But that isn't a feeling she gets from him at all.

XxXxX

"I just feel like I never see him."

There's the urge, the strong, powerful urge, to throw the phone against the wall. But the phone hasn't done anything wrong. It's just the medium to bring her a voice she has no desire to hear.

"Whose fault is that, Don? I'm not keeping him from you."

"You're the one who moved a hundred miles away."

"And you're the one who slept with your secretary."

"God, am I going to hear about that for the rest of my life?"

Surely he's not serious and that last quip was just an attempt to goad her. Quinn decides not to engage. One of them has to be the bigger person. "I'm sure that Alec would be happy to see you this weekend." She added on, "If you have time, that is."

Truly, she has no desire to sour her son's relationship with his father, no matter how much she might despise the latter. The opposite is true. She wants Alec to have a great relationship with Don; what mother wouldn't want that for her child?

"Maybe we'll go to the movies," her ex-husband said. "He likes those Lego movies, doesn't he?"

"He's already seen the one that's in theaters now. We saw it on Friday." The night she almost slept with Sam. The night that she invited him into her bedroom but then chickened out at the last second. The night that he was understanding, and kind, and kissed her and said that he wanted to see her again.

He'd taken her to dinner on Saturday night, and then mini-golf afterwards. Sam had insisted that her stance was just awful, but not beyond saving, so he held her close, but only to make sure that she knew how to hold to the club, he insisted. Quinn smiled at the memory, which spoke to how much fun she'd had, considering she's presently listening to her ex ramble, and she rarely smiles during that.

"Quinny?"

"What?" His voice jarred her out of her memories of the weekend. Sam had brought her home after their date, but had just kissed her at the door. His sister had stayed with Alec, so he had to take her home.

"I said, I want to do something fun with Alec."

"Just make sure it's something he finds fun, and not just something you like." Alec's only been to visit his father a few times since the divorce, the father's fault, not hers, Quinn liked to note, but every time he came back complaining of having to sit through a sporting event of some sort. Don ought to know, and ought to care, that their son hated sports.

"And," Quinn added, "don't force him to hang out with your," she nearly choked on the word, "girlfriend." She was doing better. For the first several months, Quinn had simply referred to her ex-husband's fiancee as "the whore."

"Sheryl's visiting her mother this weekend," was the brief response.

"Which explains why you suddenly have time for Alec."

"That's not fair. She's pregnant, pregnant women are demanding."

There are several responses she could give to that, but, again, Quinn decided to be the bigger person. She's not going to discuss how she'd begged him for a baby. She's not going to discuss how she'd pleaded for a baby. And she's not going to discuss how he finally ruined her life, and to top it all off, gave another woman a baby.

Instead, she wishes him a good day, because she's a lady, and she tries to be polite, most of the time successfully, and then she hangs up.

XxXxX

Alec's school hosts an open house on Tuesday night. It's an opportunity for parents to come and mingle and meet their kids' teachers and see the facilities. Quinn drops off Alec everyday and picks him up, as well, and her son's teacher isn't a total stranger, but she still decides to go. It'll be a nice opportunity to support the school and meet other parents.

"I think this is his first year teaching," one of the other moms says to Quinn as they stand by a bookshelf and watch Sam explain something to a group of parents.

Quinn nodded. "He's great with the kids, though. My son loves him." She doesn't feel the need to point out that Alec is seeing a lot more of his teacher lately, particularly after three in the afternoon.

"Yeah, he is great," the woman agreed. "Great, and a hot piece of ass. God, if I was twenty years younger I'd climb him like a tree."

Quinn's eyes don't fall out of her head, but just barely. "Oh."

The woman's not even done. "I have no idea how anyone can make khakis look so sexy," she hissed. Across the room, Sam bent down to pick up a pencil from the floor. The woman actually moaned. "That ass just won't quit!"

And while no one else was quite as vivid, Quinn found that most of the other mothers she spoke with had a similar opinion. "Oh, isn't he just adorable," or, "Look at his arms. Even under that sweater you can tell he works out." There was a grandmother who said, "I could just squeeze those cheeks till the police came and pulled me off." Every woman in the room stared at him with hungry eyes.

"Do you feel like prey?" Quinn asked when the open house was over and only she and Alec were left.

Sam's at his desk, gathering his things before they leave. They're going to get ice cream. "What do you mean?"

Quinn shrugged. "Oh, nothing. It's just that every mom here tonight wanted to have sex with you."

To say that he looked surprised would have been an understatement. "So, when you say _every_ mom here . . ."

She rolled her eyes. "My kid's right across the room, you know."

"You're the one who brought up your unbridled desire."

Yeah, right. Any desire she has is perfectly bridled. But the other moms weren't wrong - he does look particularly cute tonight in his cardigan and skinny tie. "Hey, um, Alec's going to his dad's this weekend." She's trying to be coy, yet suggestive. It feels weird.

He notices. "Oh, yeah?"

"Mhmm. I didn't know if you have any plans on Friday —"

"I don't," he very quickly interjects.

That makes her giggle. "So, maybe you'd like to come over?"

His finger grazes the edge of her hand. "Should I bring a toothbrush?"

"Well, I'd hate for you to have bad breath."

He spends the rest of the evening staring at her. It's hard to eat ice cream with a perpetual grin, so he manages to dump a scoop of vanilla on his tie. But he still doesn't stop grinning.

XxXxX

She's been to the gym every day this week. Quinn's always been fit, but she's never taken off her clothes for a twenty-two year old before, so she puts things into overdrive. This includes letting a stranger rub hot wax between her legs, so she hopes he appreciates all this. No, scratch that. She'd rather he think it was all natural and effortless.

Quinn's made a conscious decision to be confident about this. He likes her, he's said as much. He's attracted to her, he's said that, too. And she's pretty, she knows this. So, she's going to own this and just enjoy that a mega hot guy in his twenties seems to want to bang her. You don't look a gift horse in the mouth.

It's a struggle to keep her good mood when her ex-husband rings the doorbell. She'd known he would be coming, but it's not like she wants to see him. But, the bright side is that he'll see her as primped as possible for her date, so he'll get to see what he's missing. There's a small amount of satisfaction in that. The knocked up secretary with her swelled feet and baby bump won't be able to hold a candle next to her.

"Wow."

She ignores him and kisses Alec. "Have you got everything you need? Your iPad charger? All your books?" His backpack's bulging with his various entertainment items, and she gives a second bag to his father with clothes and his toothbrush.

"You don't look like you're staying in tonight," Don said, eyeing her up and down.

"Mom has a date," Alec helpfully interjected.

Great. But, oh well. She doesn't have anything to be ashamed of. She's not married. She's allowed to date all she likes.

"Oh? With who?"

"It's 'whom,' Don," she corrects. "And you don't know him."

"It's Mr. Evans." Her son's just a fountain of information tonight.

"Mr. Evans?"

"He's my teacher. He's really funny."

Don cocks an eyebrow. "Our son's teacher? That's some low hanging fruit, Quinny."

She knows that as soon as he gets home, her ex will check the school's website. He's always been the jealous type. And when he sees a picture of the person she's dating, well, Quinn's sure this isn't the last she'll hear about the whole thing.

But she doesn't care. Quinn hugs Alec close. "I'm going to miss my sweet boy. I'll come and pick you up on Sunday, ok?"

They've been gone for half an hour when the doorbell rings. She'd timed things just so, because the last thing she wanted was for her ex-husband to run into her date in the hallway. Sam would be polite. Don would be an ass.

Quinn checks herself in the mirror one last time, smooths out her dress, and walks toward the door. This is it.

XxXxX

The sound of the bedroom door shutting isn't nearly so loud, this time.

Quinn lets him kiss down her throat. "I've been thinking about you all day," Sam murmured against her skin. His hands are squeezing her hips, pulling her closer to him. "God, I want you."

He'd grinned across the table all through dinner, his foot touching her's, sometimes rubbing against her ankle. After dessert he'd asked her if she wanted to go to the movies or something, but seemed more than happy when she said she'd be fine with going home.

One more kiss, on her lips this time, and he pulled back, just his face, not his body from hers. "Is this ok?"

She starts unbuttoning his shirt, and hopes that's answer enough. She keeps her promise to herself. It's a struggle, but this isn't the time to be nervous. Not with him.

They're on the bed and he's so gentle and so sure. His confidence is beguiling and intoxicating. He smiles at her in the dim light and seems to know just what she wants. She holds close when he pushes inside her.

It's a rush of skin and breathing and pushing, back and forth, in and out. His hands never stop touching her, his lips here, then there. He whispers in her ear that she's beautiful, but she'd rather he use his mouth for other things, and that makes him laugh, but then he's back at it again, the kissing, the touching, the pleasing. It's almost frustrating that he should be so good at this.

Quinn's just coming down when she feels him shudder and thrust one last time. His face is adorable, and she's going to remember it. His eyes clench, his lips screw up into a crooked grin, that canine tooth showing. He can say what he wants about her, but he's the beautiful one.

They're lying shoulder to shoulder, afterwards, and Quinn says, "Is there anything you're _not_ good at?"

He laughs, his fingertips trailing down her arm. "Can I tell you something?"

"Hmm?"

"I've wanted to see your boobs since, well, probably since the day I met you."

"I knew you'd run out of suave lines eventually," she said, giggling, drunk on sex.

Sam turned on his side and pulled her to him. He kissed into her shoulder. "You're beautiful, you're gorgeous and breathtaking, but," he whispered, kissing his way back up, lips almost touching her ear, "you're also fucking hot."

That made her laugh; he's a horrible cusser, it seems so strange coming from his sweet face. But she appreciates the sentiment. "You're fucking hot, too," she giggled.

Quinn let him hold her close. She's exhausted, and the room's warm, his arms strong around her. She falls asleep to the sound of someone else breathing, and she loves it.

XxXxX

She wakes to the feel of his lips on hers. There's the slightest soreness between her legs, but she feels warm and comfortable. Everything smells like him.

"Hi." Sam grins at her when she opens her eyes.

Quinn just wants to close her eyes again and let him keep touching her.

But like all men, he feels compelled to talk when he should just shut up.

"Last night was amazing," he whispered between kisses. "You were amazing."

"Hmm." She doesn't know what to say to that. But when she feels him start to pull away, she instinctively tightens her arms. "Where are you going?"

Sam smiled, probably at how obvious she was about not wanting him to leave. "Is it ok if I go pee? I swear I'll be right back."

She doesn't mind him going, but only because she gets to watch him walk naked back to her bed. She was wrong before, when she thought he looked like an angel. No, he looks like a beautiful Greek god, a naked young hedonist, blonde and rosy. She's fine with playing the nymph.

"My eyes are up here," Sam snickered. He crawled back on the bed and into her arms. He gave her little kisses and touches, down her chest, lower still, everywhere. She's never had a morning like this.

Things cool down after a while, and he's lazily rubbing her back when Sam says, "Hey, I want you to meet my friends."

Ugh, couldn't he just continue with the touching? Why is this important right _now_? "Why?"

"Duh, because you're important to me." He pushed her hair behind her ear. "It's my best friend's birthday and he's having a party tonight. I want you to be my date."

"A party like with cake and Spiderman decorations?" Because that's the kind of birthday party she's used to.

"Uh, no. It's gonna be at that new club, Slither."

"What kind of name is that?"

"I dunno, it's edgy or something. Will you come with me?"

"Umm." She stalled for time, trying to think of an excuse. She likes Sam, she really likes him, but that didn't mean that she wants to "hang out," whatever that means, with a bunch of other twenty somethings. Nothing could make you feel older than young people having a good time. God, even saying that in her heard sounded lame.

"Do I have to?"

"You don't have to," he pouted, bottom lip out and everything. "But it would mean a lot to me if I could show off my girl to my friends."

Oh, so she's his girl now? That doesn't sound as awful as her women's lit professor in college promised it should.

But a club? She doesn't want to go to a club. It'll be loud with flashing lights and people dancing. It'll probably be even worse than that Hollister in the mall. And knowing Sam, they won't even get there until late. He's always wanting their dates to start at eight, and good grief, maybe she is old, but she gets tired.

"Will we have to stay for very long?"

"It is a party for my _best friend._ I've known him since high school."

He says "since high school" as if that was a long time ago. "And does your best friend have an old girlfriend, too?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "First, you're not even close to old. And second, no, he doesn't. He has a boyfriend."

When she was in high school, people hadn't really harassed the gay kids, it had been more like they'd just pretended they didn't exist. She supposes now people are more accepting. But she knows that Sam would be kind and accepting and not care about labels, no matter what generation he was born in.

"And I want to dance with you," Sam said, "and maybe get kinda buzzed with you, and then afterwards, go home with you and do this again." His hand slid between her legs. "Whaddya say?"

How's she supposed to say no to a face like his?

XxXxX

Sam's gone home to get dressed before coming back to pick her up. Quinn uses the time to Google what the hell you're supposed to wear to a club. The first few images that pop up show women who look like they're just begging for a nasty case of herpes.

She gathers that she's supposed to wear something low cut and short enough that she runs the risk of flashing her vagina to innocent bystanders.

Part of her still can't believe that she actually flashed her vagina at someone last night.

The first time she'd had sex with Don, he'd left soon afterwards, said he had a sociology class early the next morning. She should have broken up with him then, instead of giving him the next twenty years of her life. Blame it on the credulity of youth.

Sam, however, stayed. And after he finished pestering her about going to this damn party, he'd kept her in bed all morning, and shown her that the night before wasn't just a fluke. God, he could teach a class. And Quinn's sure that her appreciation isn't just based on comparison with the last few years of her life.

She might be crazy, but she thinks she could still be seeing stars. He's just so, so, so . . . She has to strain to find the right word. _Alive._ He was hyper focused and attentive, skilled and energetic. After the last decade or two of scheduled sex on Thursdays and birthdays, Quinn's world had been awakened. There is actually more than one position! Sex in anything but the missionary position was sort of like the aurora borealis - you saw it on TV but you never expected to experience it in real life.

Surely there's a dress in her closet that looks fairly cool, whatever that means. God, she's going to be surrounded by people Sam's age. But if they're his friends, they're probably nice, Quinn reminds herself. Nice they may be, but they're also going to be young, and active, and hyped up on life, or something like that. Kitty had told her that she ought to mention something called Iggy Azalea, because all young people like an Iggy Azalea. She hopes that's not the street name for some kind of prescription medication.

Sam's definitely going to dump her after he sees her make a fool of herself.

XxXxX

She can barely see, because it's weirdly dark except for a strobe light that occasionally flashes. And she can't hear, because the music's somehow deafening without having any apparent rhythm or lyrics. And she can't even really smell anything, because everything's overpowered by this horrific scent that smells like cheap cologne. Oh, and there are a thousand young, nubile bodies in here, so she can't really move, either. It's basically like being trapped in a coffin and buried alive.

But Sam's got his arm around her waist, so somehow she makes it to a little crowd of people that he seems to know. Like their blonde friend, this group also looks frustratingly youthful and fresh faced.

"Hey, everybody!" He has to shout, but evidently their young ears aren't having as much trouble with this so-called music, because they all respond and say hi. "Quinn, this is everybody!"

Well, that's helpful.

A guy with obsessively gelled hair and a bowtie comes forward. "Nice to meet you, I'm Blaine."

"Blaine wanted to do me for like, forever," Sam added.

"And he's never going to let me forget it, apparently." But he has a nice smile and interesting eyebrows, so Quinn decided that she liked him.

"It's nice to meet you, too, and happy birthday."

"Thanks! I'm glad you could come. Sam seems really into you, all he does is talk about you."

"Not cool, dude." But Sam didn't seem too embarrassed. Quinn remembers when it was the ultimate compliment for someone to be really into you. She likes this Blaine person, even if he apparently wanted to do Sam. She can't blame him for that.

"So, um, do you like an Iggy Azalea?" She'll later learn to be thankful that the music chose just then to get even louder, so no one heard that.

XxXxX

Sam pulls her to the middle of the room where people are dancing. She only goes along with it because surely it's too dark for anyone to see that it's her.

"Are you having a good time?"

It's one in the morning so she'd be having a better time at home, sleeping in her bed, but he's obviously having a nice time, and he seems to like having her here, so she just says yes. "You have some interesting friends."

"That's the best kind to have."

The kind of dancing that seems to be _de rigueur_ in this club is of the grinding variety. You just rub up against someone until something breaks or the song ends, evidently. But there are worse things than having a hot guy rubbing up against you.

"I like Kurt." The pale skinned boy had complimented her hair, and he seemed like someone who'd know good hair.

"He's cool. He also wanted to do me for a while, before he met Blaine."

This is becoming a running theme. "Oh, yeah?"

Sam ran his hands up her sides, pulled her close to the (odd) beat of the music. "Yeah, we were supposed to sing a duet together in glee club, but he backed out and decided to tell me in the locker room while I was showering. The dude stared at my dick for like a full minute."

It is a nice dick, Quinn can now attest from first hand experience. But that wasn't the part of the story she found interesting. "You sing?"

"Not so much anymore. But if you hadn't agreed to go out with me, I'd planned on showing up at your door with my guitar."

"Hmm, I guess I should have held out longer."

Some of his other friends joined them on the dance floor. There were two women together, and Quinn suddenly remembered an offhand comment from when she hadn't known him long, something about how he'd dated two lesbians. She wonders if these are the two. How many lesbian couples could he know?

Sam brings her a drink when the song's over, it's horrible, but she sips it to be polite. The group has gradually coalesced in a quieter corner of the club around a few small tables and chairs. She gathers that they all met through their high school show choir team, which surprises her more than a little. The show choir from her own high school had been filled with the less popular kids, but Sam and all his friends are almost weirdly good looking.

By this point a few of them are pretty drunk, well most of them are. Kurt seems a little more reserved, and she figures that Sam doesn't want to get shitfaced in front of her, which she appreciates, but the rest of them have had more than a few drinks. One girl, Tina, Quinn remembers, kept hanging on Blaine's arm.

"She does this all the time," Kurt said.

"Yeah," Sam added, "she once straddled his hips and rubbed ointment into his chest while he was passed out."

God, kids are weird these days. "And this doesn't bother you?" she asked Kurt.

He shrugged. "Tina's mostly harmless, and Blaine's totally gay, so nothing can really come of it." When Sam went to use the restroom, Kurt leaned closer and said, "You know he's head over for heels for you, right?"

Quinn feels her face heat. "We haven't really been dating for very long." It still sounds weird to say 'dating.'

"Trust me, when Sam knows, he knows."

Oh, boy. "Has he said anything to you?"

"No, but he's Blaine's best friend, and from what I hear, you can't get a word in edgewise these days, because he's talking about you all the time."

She bites her lip. "I really like him, I like him a lot. But, you know I'm thirty-nine, right?"

The pale boy's mouth falls open. "Get out."

He gives her the most appraising look; Quinn feels like she's under a microscope. "I'm usually excellent at this. I knew you were a little bit older than him, but I thought twenty-eight."

Kurt is now officially her favorite. "I was, um, really surprised when he asked me on a date."

"Why? You're hot."

That is nice to hear. "I'm seventeen years older than him and I have an eight year old son."

He shrugged again. This guy makes shrugging look elegant. "Sam knows what he wants. He's never messed around. If he's asked you out for a second date, it's because he really, really likes you, and he thinks it could be something real."

They cut short their talk when the object of the conversation returned from the restroom. He pulled up close to Quinn and kissed her cheek. "Are you ready to go home? I know you're probably not having the best time."

She is ready to go home, her eyelids are heavy and she doesn't think she's been this tired in recent memory. "I was just having a good time talking with Kurt. He thought I was twenty-eight."

"You're too caught up with dumb numbers," he said, arm back around her waist. "Life's not an algebra equation, you know."

Maybe he's right. Maybe it's not such a horrible idea to leave all the numbers behind.

 _To be continued . . ._

 **Thanks so much for all the reviews! I love hearing from you guys! As a teaser for the next chapter, we'll get to see the return of Don! Leave reviews and let me know what you thought of this chapter!**


	7. Chapter 7

She doesn't talk to her ex very often. And when they do talk, it's exclusively about their son. The only reason she called today was to arrange a time to pick up Alec after he'd spent the weekend with his father. Quinn's anxious to get off the phone so she can get ready. Sam's coming over to take her to lunch. It's weird that a lunch date is so exciting. But her life is quickly turning exciting.

He'd brought her home from the club last night and stood in her doorway. "I know we're still new," he said, "and I don't want to rush anything or overdo it, but it would really suck if I had to go home alone."

Well, she didn't want him to be lonely. He'd only gone home an hour ago to change his clothes. Admittedly, they had been just sleeping all morning, because the late night partying scene took a toll after one reached a certain age.

"Six tonight works for me," Don said on the other end of the line. Quinn thought that meant they could wrap things up, when he added at the last second, in an obviously affected voice of just remembering something, as if he hadn't been waiting the entire conversation to bring this up, "Oh, how was your date on Friday night?"

Shit.

"It was very nice, thank you." That's all she's giving him.

"I was particularly interested when I learned that "Mr. Evans" was our son's teacher, so I looked him up on the school's website. Quinny," he said, clicking his tongue. "I'm embarrassed for you."

She wants to ignore him, but of course he pushes on.

"Did he take you to Chuck E. Cheese's for your date?"

"Fuck you."

"You sound defensive, Q. What is he, sixteen?"

"Yes, they're letting teenagers teach elementary school now. Not that it's any of your business, but he's twenty-two."

"Well, at least he's not half your age. Just almost."

She almost retorted with a comment about his secretary and new fiancee, but Quinn wasn't about to compare what she has with Sam to the way her ex-husband had destroyed their family. So, she ends on a more pleasant note.

"I will say, Don, that everything about dating Sam is new for me. It's new for me to be with a man who's caring and sweet and kind, and it's definitely new to be with a man who knows how to give me an orgasm." She hung up the phone.

XxXxX

"You seem kinda edgy," Sam says from across the table. They'd kept it simple with Panera Bread. She'd told him that he didn't have to take her to upscale restaurants every time they went out. She'd even offered to pay, but he'd looked like she'd just run over his dog, so she let that drop.

Quinn made an effort to smile. "Sorry, I was on the phone with Don before you came by. He's the perfect way to ruin a good day."

"Is everything alright with Alec?"

"He's fine. We were just deciding on a time for me to go pick him up."

"He doesn't bring him back?"

She shook her head. "We've got it worked out that Don comes here to get him, and I go there to pick him up."

"It seems like a dick move to make you drive all that way." Sam pushed his chips around the plate. "I want to go with you when you go to pick him up."

When Quinn doesn't immediately answer, because she's taking a moment to formulate the words that express just how bad his idea is, Sam goes on.

"I don't like you driving that far at night by yourself."

She doesn't point out that she's been driving since before he was born. But his trying to be protective is sort of cute. "It's really not a good idea."

"Why not?"

Quinn puts her fork down; there's no way she's going to enjoy the rest of her salad. "Because." She has to think of a way to articulate it. "Because I know him, and I know he'll be an ass if you're there, and he'll show off, like the ass he is, and I just don't want to deal with it."

"From what I've heard, he's an ass no matter what."

Not untrue, Quinn allows. "It'll be worse. He'll try to get in some pissing contest with you."

"I won't embarrass you, if that's what you mean." He looks just a little pitiful right then.

She gives him a look. "You know that's not what I meant."

He moves to a new tact. "I'll wait in the car when we get there."

Quinn can tell that he has no intention of letting this go. And she likes that he wants to take care of her, even though it's only an hour and a half drive to get to her former home. But she also knows that as dickish as Don can be over the phone, if he's actually confronted, face to face, with any new man in her life, well, he'll almost certainly take "ass" to a new level.

But, the thought of showing her ex just how much better she can do for herself has a certain pleasing quality. She's not with Sam so that she has someone to show off, but it might be a nice side benefit. And if he wants to go anyway . . .

"Just promise that you won't dump me when you see who I chose to spend twenty years with."

XxXxX

"Turn left at the next light," she tells Sam from the passenger seat. It's beyond strange to be driving around the place where she lived for fifteen years, the place she'd once thought she'd live for the rest of her life, with Sam.

He's such a new factor in her life, and everything here is old. It's old and gone, only to return for short, weekend trips to pick up her son. Someday, he'll be old enough to drive himself. She wonders if she'll ever come back, then.

"That's the hospital where Alec was born," she says, without knowing why.

Sam squeezed her hand.

"Ugh, I got married in that church. They should probably condemn the building."

He chuckled a little, but didn't comment. It occurred to Quinn that he might not enjoy seeing the highlights of her life spent with another man.

"I'm sorry. You probably don't want to hear about all that."

He kept his eyes focused on the road but said, "No, it's interesting. Before, you were just the hot mom who showed up in my classroom one day. I like knowing more about you."

She worries he's going to see more than he wants when they pull up to the house where she lived with her husband and son for so long.

"Does it feel weird, ringing the doorbell?" Sam asks as they stand on the porch, waiting. He's at her side, but just half a step behind. He'd wanted to be here for her, but at the same time, was obviously trying not to intrude.

"It feels weird just being here." There's the swing where she'd sit with Alec when he was a baby and wouldn't go to sleep. She can see her favorite tree, an old oak, in the side yard. She hadn't fought in the divorce to keep the house, but some of it she missed. The outside didn't feel polluted by Don's cheating.

The door opens and there's Don. At first he's wearing his usual half smirk, as if he's extremely pleased with his own cleverness, but then his smile falters, just briefly, before his facial muscles contort again with a fresh veneer of civility.

"Quinny, you brought your friend."

That's really a better opening line than anything she might have hoped for. "Don, this is Sam."

Sam's got his usual smile, and no one can fail to be disarmed by it, at least in Quinn's opinion. He extends his hand. "It's nice to meet you."

They shake hands, and Quinn can see it in Don's face that he's trying to squeeze as hard as he can. It's a man thing, so whatever. She's seen Sam's muscles, and just hopes her ex doesn't get hurt.

Wringing his newly freed hand in an attempt to restore blood flow, Don steps back. "Come in, come in. Alec's still in his room, reading. You can't tear him away from those books, you know."

The entryway's been painted, a blue that she wouldn't have chosen, but it's not her house anymore. Quinn hopes the secretary's still visiting with her mother, and stays there until they've left. The younger woman is more than welcome to have Don, but that doesn't mean Quinn wants to see her face to face.

"The house looks nice." Not particularly, but maybe she's feeling magnanimous.

"Thanks. Sheryl's kinda picky, likes everything just so," he chuckled. Quinn wonders if he'd made a point to mention that the new female in his life had worked to undo the way Quinn had decorated their home of fifteen years. She decides she doesn't care.

Alec darts out of the hallway just then and jumps into her arms for a hug. The first crack in the facade appears when he turns to do the same with Sam.

"Hey, bud," Sam says with a smile. He crouches down when Alec holds out his arms to hug him, too. "Did you have a fun weekend?"

"I did all my homework and read ahead in our book. I finished the whole thing!" His class is reading a book together, and they were supposed to read a chapter over the weekend.

"Wow! You're gonna start us off tomorrow when we talk about it, ok?"

Don's biting his lip through the entire exchange, and Quinn's mentally calculating how long they have to stay for the sake of not being rude. She's hoping another twenty seconds is all propriety requires.

"Yeah, uh, maybe don't give the kids so much to do at home, huh? Let 'em be kids and run around."

Quinn knows he's just looking for some imagined point of contention. It's third grade, and Alec usually zooms through his homework in about twenty minutes, sometimes less. And he could have all the free time in the world, and he's still not going to "run around."

But Sam is ever polite. "Well, I just want to make sure my students get plenty of practice. If they don't keep up with what we learn in class, it doesn't really stick, you know?" He stands back up, still looking unruffled.

"Mostly women in your profession, right?"

Quinn sighs. And so it begins.

"That's true, but it's changing a little." Sam's voice is pleasant and friendly, and if he's irritated, it doesn't show. "Studies show that there's a real need for male role models, especially at the elementary school level."

Don snickers. "Hard to be a role model when you're so close to their age, am I right?"

She figures that's her cue. "Alright, I think it's time to go now. Alec, have you got all your things?"

Her ex-husband walks them towards the door and Quinn has never been so happy to see it. Though, in truth, this little meeting has gone considerably better than she'd hoped. No one's ended up with a black eye, so she's putting this one in the "win" column.

"I hate that you all can't stay longer, but I'm sure Sam has a curfew and his parents want him home."

She knew it was too good to be true. "Alec, give your dad a hug goodbye then go with Sam and wait in the car." The males in the room, at least the two older ones, don't mistake the tone in her voice.

As soon as the other two are out the door Quinn rounded on her ex-husband. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"What are you talking about? I thought we were all having a nice time."

"You were being a jerk to Sam." She fights the urge to smack the shit-eating grin from his face.

"Oh, if I'd known your little boytoy was so sensitive I would have had a lollypop waiting for him."

Her hand clenches and unclenches, again and again. There's a soothing pattern to it that allows her to keep everything else in check.

"I would think that you'd be a little nicer to someone who spends so much time with our son."

"What, has he moved in already?"

"I meant in school, idiot." She's got to pull it back. Losing her temper means that he wins, and that's a thought she cannot stomach. Quinn doesn't even know why she's still standing here. Why doesn't she just leave? She could be happy in the car right now with Alec and Sam. That's the better option.

She's almost to the door when he says, "You didn't have to rub my face in it."

Against her better judgement, Quinn turns around. "What are you talking about?"

He spread his hands wide, palms up. "You brought him just to show me how quickly you'd moved on. You brought him just to hurt me."

Really? He's always been self-centered, but this is ridiculous. "Don," Quinn said, trying to take a conciliatory tone. "I bought him because he asked to come. He wanted to support me. And you'd already moved on when we were still married. You moved on with another woman in our bed."

"That was a mistake!"

God, now his eyes are getting red. Is he really going to cry? He'd said much the same thing on the day she'd walked into their bedroom to find her husband naked with an equally naked woman. Don had chased after her, pleading that it was all a mistake, that he was sorry. Quinn remembers vomiting.

"I'm sure your fiancee wouldn't like to hear that, Don."

And then the tears start. "I've regretted it every day. Every single day. Quinny, I love you."

This is making her stomach hurt. "You're embarrassing yourself."

He slumps down against the back of the couch. "I've got nothing now. I had everything, and now I've got nothing."

She doesn't enjoy seeing him like this. For the better part of two decades she'd been convinced she was in love with him, so this isn't something that gives her any sort of pleasure. Quinn sighs and puts her hand on his shoulder.

"Don, you made your choice. And you don't have nothing. Alec loves you, and you've got another baby on the way," the baby that should have been hers. "And," this stings, "and you've got Sheryl."

And that's all she feels she owes him. Quinn said goodbye and returned to the car. She felt lighter once she was with Alec and Sam again.

Sam looked a little wary. "Everything alright?"

She smiled at him. "Everything's fine."

XxXxX

They stop to eat on the way back, and it's not long after they get home that Alec has to go to bed. Quinn tucks him in and then finds Sam waiting in the living room.

He looked at her from beneath shaggy bangs. "I really liked this weekend."

"I did, too." And she did, even staying up late to go to an awful nightclub.

"But I sorta wanted to punch your ex," he mumbled.

"That would have been a highlight," She pulled in and leaned against his front. It felt nice when he hugged her, warm and secure. "But it's probably a good thing you didn't." The apartment is quiet around them. She could stay here, leaning against him with her eyes closed, for a long time.

"Can I ask you a question?" Sam said.

She has an idea of what's coming next.

Sam sits down on her couch and pulls her with him. "We haven't even been together very long, I probably don't have any right to ask." He looked like he was unsure if he should continue.

Quinn said, "It's alright."

He proved her assumption correct. "Why were you with him?"

It's a question she'd asked herself a thousand times since the day she'd walked into her bedroom to find him with another woman. And she'd asked her mother, she'd asked Kitty. Alec was probably the only person she hadn't asked.

"We met in college, he could be dashing, when he wanted to be." She remembered dates and parties, being drunk on life more than alcohol. Nowadays, Quinn's an advocate of postponing all major decisions until after college; you don't know your own mind at that stage in life.

"I don't know. I guess inertia played a part. I wasn't really unhappy, for a long time."

Sam nodded. "I'm sorry for asking. It's none of my business."

She shook her head. "No, you met him tonight, so I understand why you'd wonder. He wasn't always like that. At least, not to that degree. At first it came off as confidence, and it was alluring. But that got old pretty quickly."

"I'm sorry he didn't treat you right."

Quinn shrugged. "It's over now, and I got Alec out of the deal." And that was pretty much all she had to say about fifteen years of wedded bliss. Looking back, most of it seemed grey and wan, a holding pattern that consisted of little more than continuing for its own sake.

"But," she said, "I'm having an interesting time these days. Who would have thought that a hot boy would want to take me to a nightclub?"

He laughs, and they kiss, because why not? Kissing him is fun; she really, really likes kissing him. Quinn's frowns when he finally pulls away.

"I guess you have to go home?"

Look at her, inviting a boy to stay over three nights in a row. Good grief, she's emerged from her cocoon not a shriveled divorcee, but a lusty cougar.

"I probably should. But I guess I could quit my job and stay in bed all day tomorrow. Your bed, I mean."

"But then Alec wouldn't have a teacher."

"I didn't say there weren't downsides."

She follows him to the door and gets a goodnight kiss. There's the promise to call later, and maybe he'll see her when she picks Alec up from school? That seems likely. One more kiss because everything's still new and she feels like a teenager around him.

It's still crazy, but it feels good.

 **Thank you so, so much to everyone who left reviews! It brightens my day when I get an email saying someone left a review. This chapter took a little longer because I've been deciding on what the next chapter will include. I have some ideas, and of course there's gonna be some drama, sooner or later. But if there's something you'd be interested in seeing, let me know in a review. I might not use it, but there's a chance. Let me know!**


	8. Chapter 8

She starts to see a lot of him. There are the usual scheduled dates, but also, "I can pick up pizza," or, "Hey, I'm bored. Come and talk to me while I fold laundry?" He actually said that once, and she went along with it. It's so strangely normal and domestic. He stays over most weekends, but they get up early, because she doesn't want it to be weird for Alec. Quinn knows she should talk to him about this strange situation, but in some ways it still almost doesn't seem real to her, so how can she explain it in terms an eight year old can understand?

But maybe she doesn't have to worry. She arrives at the school one afternoon to pick him up, and Sam pulls her aside. "Hey, um, I just thought you should know, Alec told one of the other kids that I'm your boyfriend."

Oh. Well, it _was_ fairly obvious. Just because her son always had his nose in a book didn't mean he missed what was going on around him. She should have said something earlier.

"Did he say it in a happy way?" This is her first time dealing with this sort of thing, so she's not exactly an expert.

"I don't think he's traumatized, if that's what you mean." Sam's eyes dart around the classroom, she assumes to make sure all his other students have left with their parents. "I kinda liked hearing it." He gave her a grin that showed off sparklingly white teeth. "Come to think of it, I kinda like being your boyfriend."

In the car, Quinn says, "So, you know that Mr. Evans and I are good friends?" This is so awkward.

"You kiss a lot," Alec mumbled without looking up from his book. He's clearly not particularly interested.

Not in front of him, or at least Quinn thought. It seems that his little eyes are always watching. "Does that bother you?"

"No."

"So, you don't mind that he visits us, um, a lot?"

There's a sigh and the sound of a page turning. He'd obviously rather she let him read uninterrupted. More than once she'd heard, "just one more page," whenever she tried to direct his attention elsewhere.

"Nope," Alec said. "He's nice, and he brought pizza that time. He should do that more."

Well, her son's easy enough to win over. After a text message, Sam brings pizza that very night.

XxXxX

But then things seem to taper off. She was seeing a lot of him, but then she just . . . wasn't.

It's a little strange, but not really. It's just, a couple days go by and she doesn't hear from him. Obviously she sees him at Alec's school, but there are kids and parents all around, so it's nothing more than polite friendliness. But other than that, there's not much.

Of course, he's got his own life. As she knows, he's got friends, so he probably wants to hang out with them. But it's odd. Usually he texts her most days, memes a lot of the time, now that she knows what those are. And then she takes Alec to school one morning and there's a sub, a nice older lady, sitting at Sam's desk.

Quinn doesn't know what the social rules are in this situation, doesn't know what constitutes being too clingy. But she figures they've had sex, several times, actually, and they've spent all day in bed on a Saturday, and she made soup when he had a cold last weekend, and he changed the lightbulb in her bathroom, so she has a right to ask. She settles for a text.

 _Everything ok?_

It's over an hour before she hears anything. And she's not a silly teenager, so she doesn't take that as a hint that he's finally realized he's dating a thirty-nine year old, and there's no way this can possibly work out, and hey, there's a supermodel who's inviting him to her bed. Those thoughts definitely don't go through Quinn's head as she waits for a response.

He doesn't answer her question.

 _Can I come over 2nite?_

He usually doesn't come over on weeknights. Sometimes they have dinner, but making lesson plans and grading and getting ready for the next day in his classroom can take forever, so they normally have to keep their relationship to the weekends. So, why would he want to come over? And why wouldn't he say more in his text message?

It's definitely not because he wants to break up with her, surely. The last time he'd been over had been crazy, like, crazy in a good way. In an amazing way. As in, she didn't know there were that many positions and God, doesn't he ever get tired, but oh, yeah, that feels amazing so I don't care. But maybe she can't keep up, and maybe he's realized that? Quinn thought she could keep up, and he'd definitely seemed satisfied.

It doesn't even make sense that he's with her in the first place, so it ought to make perfect sense that he might be ready to end things. She decides that she's going to be fine with it. It was more than she'd ever expected, more than she'd even dreamed of thinking possible, and she's going to be happy with the fun time she's had, and be ready to move on. It's the mature, adult thing to do.

The thought makes her side hurt.

Only an idiot lets herself get attached to a twenty-two year old. Only an idiot lets it happen so fast. Only an idiot opens herself up to hurt this way. She's an idiot.

XxXxX

It's late when he finally knocks on her door. Well, late by her standards. It's nearly nine.

She hadn't had time to dwell on certain thoughts, certain fears. There was making dinner, eating with Alec, helping him with his homework. That last one was mostly pro forma, but it made her feel involved to look it over, even if he didn't need her help. She'd made him turn off his video game and watch a movie with her, because if she didn't have something to occupy her mind Quinn knew she'd just bite her nails all evening. She was extra thorough in helping him get ready for bed, tucking him in. Alec finally told her that he was sleepy, so she should probably turn off the light and go away.

And then she'd settled in to wait. She felt stupid for being so worked up.

Quinn answered the door and found Sam looking tired. He's always so upbeat and bubbly, but now there are dark circles under his eyes and his smile is wan, at best. He leans in and kisses her cheek, and she wonders if she's been worrying about the wrong thing.

"Have you eaten yet?" She's probably so wrapped up in being a mother that that's the first thing she asks most people. But he says he has, and doesn't offer anything beyond that. They go to the couch and she wants to pepper him with questions, but holds back. Surely there's something he wants to tell her, because tonight is definitely not normal. But he should say whatever he wants to in his own time. Even if that means breaking up with her.

He scrolls through Netflix, an endless stream of bad movies and reality TV. That always annoys her; he looks and looks, but hardly ever picks anything to watch. And now, after not talking to her for days, he's just doing that blasted scrolling. Quinn puts her hand over his on the remote.

"Is everything alright?"

He nods, and she thinks that he's going to go back to scrolling through endless rows of TV shows that surely no one watches, but then Sam bites his lip. He looks at her, and his eyes are sadder than she'd ever thought it possible for eyes to be.

"Um, I mean, it'll be fine, I know it'll be fine, but." He doesn't finish the sentence, he drifts off and just stares at her, like he's waiting for her to make him tell.

"You can tell me."

Another nod, his teeth still pressed into his lip, little points of white against pink. He looks awkward and embarrassed.

"My parents lost their house this week."

That was not what she expected to hear.

"I don't understand." She really didn't. People don't just lose houses, they don't lose homes. Quinn hasn't met his parents, she's been avoiding meeting them, in fact. She knows they're forty-four, which means that the parents of the man she's sleeping with are just five years her senior. She'd rather not be faced with that in person.

"My dad's been out of work for a few months now," Sam said, looking at his lap. "He was a shift manager at a plastics plant, but the company moved overseas. He's been looking for another job, but you know what the economy's like."

Quinn touched his hand and Sam kept talking. It seemed like it got easier as he spoke.

"They burned through their savings, and they didn't have a lot of that after putting me through college. I've been giving them some money, but teachers don't make shit."

It's strange to hear him cuss. Sometimes he does when they're together in bed, and it always makes her laugh because it's so out of character coming from his cute face. This seems out of character, too, sad news.

"Isn't there anything that can be done?" Do they really just take someone's house away? Surely they can't just do that. They can't take where you live with your family.

"It's already done," Sam said. "They couldn't pay anymore so the bank repossessed. They moved in with me two days ago."

Quinn's only met Stacy, but she knows he also has a brother. That's four more people living in his one bedroom apartment. "What can I do to help?"

He shook his head. "It's, it's going to be ok. Without the expenses from the house, mom's job covers most everything, and dad's still looking everyday."

That doesn't sound ok to her. She can't imagine his entire family stuffed into his apartment. "I wish you'd told me this was going on." Quinn doesn't know what she would have done; she's sure they wouldn't have accepted any money. But she still wishes she'd known.

He looked guilty. "I know, I should have. I just kept hoping that it would go away or get better. I still can't believe that it's happened like this. I mean, dad's always worked super hard, and mom, too."

Quinn reached for him and he practically fell into her. She knows that you can't have his capacity for happiness, for joy, without being especially vulnerable to the other side, as well. She hates that he'd been holding this in. She doesn't know what, but Quinn likes to think that should could have done something, even something small. Sometimes just having another person know what you're going through helps.

She holds him, rubs his back. He's warm and heavy against her. His face is touching her neck and it's searing. When Sam pulls away, his cheeks are red.

"Hey, um, can I ask for something awful?"

Quinn nods, unsure of what he could mean.

"Can I stay here tonight?"

"You don't have to ask. Why would that be awful?"

"Because they've been with me for a two days, and they're my family and they've lost everything, and I love them, and I don't think I can stand another night." Sam rubbed at his eyes, leaving them red. "It's not sleeping on the air mattress, I can handle that. And it's not how everything's cramped. It's just, my dad seems like he's broken, and mom cries all the time and tries to hide it. And Stacy cries, too, and Stevie stares at the wall." He slumps back into place next to her. "I just can't stand it."

"That doesn't make you a bad person." Quinn moved closer and took his hand. "It means that you love them and it hurts to see them like this." She kissed his cheek. "Sam, you're a good person."

"I feel like I'm running."

"You're not, but it's ok to run to me."

XxXxX

Quinn stays up late googling while Sam sleeps next to her. It turns out they _can_ take your home away. But that doesn't make it right or fair. She hasn't met his parents, but she knows the people who raised someone like Sam Evans can't be anything less than wonderful people.

She feels guilty and petty. She'd been worried that he was coming over to break things off with her. The news about his parents was awful, but that was something happening to someone else. She was left unscathed. The sense of relief made her feel like a jerk.

It made her feel like a fool, too, for being so wrapped up in another person that even the thought of ending things physically hurt. God, how long has she known him? A few months? And already she can't picture herself alone? She's just out of a fifteen year marriage, and she's relieved that his parents lost their home because that's better than him breaking up with her? What the hell is wrong with her?

Quinn closed her laptop. Tomorrow she'll think of something nice to do for his parents. It couldn't seem like charity, she knew that. What do the rules say about meeting your boyfriend's family? When is that supposed to happen? Are there any rules when there's a seventeen year age gap? God, meeting them is only going to reinforce that unpleasant fact. But Sam had opened up to her tonight, and it would seem callous to just continue as if nothing had happened or changed.

Maybe she'll invite them over for dinner. That's not too much, that's normal. She'll watch a couple episodes of _The Barefoot Contessa_ and find an impressive recipe and have them over. Quinn imagines they'd be happy to spend an evening out of Sam's small apartment. That'll be fine.

She pulled up the sheets and moved in close to Sam, happy and guilty that the inevitable day when he came to his senses and ended things wasn't here yet.

 _To Be Continued . . ._

 **As always, thanks for the reviews on the last chapter! I hope you feel moved to comment here as well.**


	9. Chapter 9

The chair of the search committee is nice enough to walk her back to her car. Quinn wishes he hadn't; the short trek is just that much longer that she has to be composed and on edge.

"It's shouldn't be very long before we make our decision," he said, white teeth gleaming in the sunlight. "We should probably be able to let you know by the end of the month."

Quinn puts on her best smile, her thousandth fake smile of the day. "I look forward to hearing from you. Please let me know if I can answer any more questions." She's running out of lines, but thankfully he shakes her hand and wishes her safe travels home. Quinn feels like an idiot after she says, "You too," to the man who's just walking back inside the building.

The moment the car door shuts she kicks off her heels.

The second thing she does is turn on her phone. She's had it powered off since she arrived in the parking lot three hours ago. Sam's been busy.

 _Ur gonna b amazing!_

 _Theyll luv u!_

 _OMG I wanna know rite now!_

 _Did u get it? U got it rite? I know u got it!_

And then there are several messages of just emojis, which she guesses are supposed to be encouraging. He's sweet and it makes her smile, probably her first real smile since arriving at the advertising agency hours ago.

XxXxX

It's late when Sam arrives. After work he usually goes home to his cramped apartment, spends time with his family, helps them move some of their remaining possessions from storage, whatever they can do without, and takes them to consignment and pawn shops. He usually eats with them, but then, when it's time to sleep, he comes to her. Quinn had pushed for that. He shouldn't have to sleep on the floor in his own home.

Quinn pulls him to her on the couch; he lets her, his body slumping against hers. She puts her arms around him, one hand pushing through his hair. He's got to be exhausted. In addition to all the other stuff, all the demands on his time after he gets home from work, he also has to plan his lessons for the next day, make sure that he's doing everything he can to successfully teach a pack of eight year olds how to become functioning human beings. It's after midnight now, and she knows he'll probably still get up at six in the morning to do pushups, Saturday be damned.

"Mom made me promise to tell you how much she loved the potatoes," Sam mumbled into her shoulder.

His mom is seriously the nicest person Quinn's ever met. There's also the fact that his mother is only five years her senior, but she tries not to think about that.

"I think you've told me that every day since your parents came to dinner."

"She's pushy with gratitude."

Having his parents over had been nice, but Quinn hadn't enjoyed it. You don't enjoy coming eye to eye with the parents of the guy you're sleeping with, not when they're only five years ahead of you in this crazy game called life. But they're good people. It certainly wasn't their fault that meeting them had just reinforced the certainty that she had no idea where this relationship could possibly lead. And yes, that still made her stomach hurt.

Sam pushed himself up on his elbow and brought her back to the present. "Do you feel good about your interview?"

He's talking about the job she'd applied for on a whim, the job she was nervous as hell about, the job she didn't feel she was qualified for, and the job she wanted badly.

Quinn shrugged. "I think it was ok. I thought of much better answers to their questions once I was back to my car."

"That happens for everyone. I bet they call you back any day now."

She could argue with him and list all the reasons why she won't get the job. All her life, Quinn's battled between confidence and doubt, back and fourth. Even at thirty-nine, there's still a fight going on between Lucy Caboosey and the head cheerleader. She can never decide which outsiders see when they look at her.

But she doesn't feel like getting into any of that right now. "Are you ready to go to bed?"

Sam grinned. "By "bed," do you mean both of us naked, bodies intwined in an epic battle of passion and desire?"

"Yeah, I don't think that's what I meant. Don't you ever get tired?" Seriously, he'd have sex three times a day if she let him. Must have something to do with being twenty-two.

"I am tired," he shrugged, a dirty smile still pulling at the edge of his lips. "But then I picture you naked, and I wake right up. Certain parts of me wake up in a big way."

"Oh, and I thought that was the remote poking me."

It definitely wasn't the remote rubbing between her legs. Sam was already starting to groan at the heat building between them. Quinn put her finger to his lips; they were on the couch and you never knew when Alec might wake up from a bad dream, need to pee, or want to get a drink of water from the kitchen.

She pulled Sam by the hand to her bedroom and shut the door behind them. His hands were under her shirt the moment the door clicked into place.

"I've been thinking about you all day long." His breath's hot against her neck, hands releasing her bra, hips pushing against hers. "I'm always thinking about you."

Quinn pulls his shirt off. Something happened to her the night he fixed her washing machine. That was the day she became addicted to abs that could cut glass. She has a feel, lets her nails run over the ridges of hard muscle and pink skin. He knows how much she appreciates his body and it shows on his face.

Another thing he knows is foreplay. He knows what she needs, knows how to make her eyes roll back in her head. She comes against the motions of his fingers after an embarrassingly brief amount of time. Quinn finally opens her eyes to see him leaning over her, smirking.

"You liked that, huh?"

She swats at him, like he's a gorgeous blonde gnat, but then he says something about how it'd be nice if they could get down to business, "Unless you'd like me to jizz all over the bedspread, cause I'm really that horny." And no, she doesn't want that.

Tonight he's above her, kissing her but then biting his lip, his face is clenching, cheeks red, chest hard, then a final thrust. He always waits for her then follows, holding out as long as he can. He's still for a moment, afterwards, on top, face next to hers, breathing into her hair. Quinn can feel him softening inside her. He pulls out and it's sort of funny to see it flop. Sometimes she likes to play with it, tease him, but now she's tired.

Sam brings a wet washcloth back from the bathroom. It's late, so they'll just be gross and sleep like this, shower in the morning. The room feels hot and sticky, there's a grit that comes from exerting yourself like that. Quinn's drowsy, but she watches him clean himself after he does her; it's hot to watch him touch himself.

And then the covers come up. Sam pulls in close. It probably won't be long before they're both hot and pushing apart, but they usually start the night snuggled together, his arm around her waist, her head on his chest. It's nice, and now she's really ready for sleep.

But Sam just has to ruin it. "I love you."

XxXxX

Sam falls asleep quickly but Quinn lingers, awake, staring at the ceiling, that earlier fatigue from the late hour and their exertions brushed aside. She's soon hot and pushing his heavier frame away, careful not to wake him up. Sam rolls easily next to her, onto his back. From the dim light outside the window she can see his chest rising and falling.

What did he mean, saying something like that? You don't just say that, like it's normal.

Knowing Sam, it wasn't planned. He didn't plan things, he just felt them and then followed through on his impulses. If he planned things, he probably would have had time to realize that asking out the thirty-nine year old mother of one of his students was a bad idea. But that ship had sailed.

God. Now she's got to say something.

XxXxX

He and Alec are already eating breakfast when she wakes up. What with Sam staying over so frequently thanks to his family moving into his own apartment, Quinn had decided that she might as well quit pretending that Alec didn't have a clue as to what was going on.

"I know that you said it doesn't bother you that Mr. Evans and I are dating," she said one evening, her son across from her on the couch. "Would it be ok with you if he started staying over some nights?" He already was, mostly on weekends, but they tried to get up early every morning, before Alec.

"Yeah. Will he sleep with you?"

"Um, yes."

"Ok, just as long as he doesn't have to sleep with me. I don't have room."

So, what she'd been dreading had turned out to be a non issue.

"Hey, sleepyhead." Sam kissed her cheek and got up from his spot at the table to put some eggs and bacon on a plate. Since he was staying over more, he'd convinced her to make the transition to turkey bacon. "If you like my abs, we're both going to have to make sacrifices to keep them," he'd said.

"Mom," Alec said around a mouthful of toast, "Mr. Evans said that if you said it was ok, we could go to the movies today."

"Hmm." It's Saturday so they have all day free, but after what Sam had said last night, her mind wasn't on the movies. "We'll see."

"That means no," Alec sagely interpreted for his teacher.

When her son had finished eating and dashed off to his room to whatever distractions called to eight year old boys on Saturday mornings, Quinn noticed Sam staring at her.

"What?"

"Nothing." He stuck his tongue out at her. "You just look beautiful this morning."

She most certainly did not. She hadn't looked in the mirror yet, but it just occurred to Quinn that she'd shared breakfast with her son while most likely suffering from an awful case of sex hair. Add that to the lack of makeup, oversized shirt and baggy sweatpants, and she highly doubts that she's even in the same solar system as "beautiful."

"Why do you just say things like that?"

"'Cause it's true."

Hmm. Quinn glances towards towards the hallway and sees her son's door is shut, which suits her purposes. "I think that we need to talk."

"Oh, that's never good." But his tone says that he's joking and doesn't see any storm clouds on the horizon.

"What did you mean last night?"

Sam looks confused. Admittedly, she wasn't giving him much to go on.

"When you said that you loved me," Quinn clarified.

"Oh." Sam smiled, reached over to squeeze her knee. "I meant that I love you. That's not very mysterious, right?"

"Why did you say it?"

"Because that's how I feel. I don't get where this is going."

"You can't just say things like that."

Sam winked and, she actually can't believe this, gave her a pair of finger guns. "First amendment, babe." He still thinks she's joking.

Quinn rolled her eyes and got up to walk to her bedroom. As she knew he would, Sam followed. His voice isn't nearly so jocular when he says, "What'd I do? I'm at a loss here."

She shuts the door; eight year olds pop up like zits on prom night; always at the wrong time.

"Do you think we're moving too fast?"

"What do you mean?"

She doesn't know. Quinn sits down on the edge of her bed. "You're twenty-two."

It's his turn to roll his eyes and suddenly he's not joking. "God, this again?"

Quinn decides to push ahead and just talk until something makes sense. "Yes, again. Do you remember the night you told me about your parents? The night you told me about them losing their house?"

He nods.

"Well, before you told me that, I thought you were going to break up with me."

"That wasn't —"

She's not finished. "I know, and that's not the point. When I thought you were going to break up with me, it hurt. It made my stomach ache. That's the point. It hurt too much, because you're twenty-two and it's going to happen someday."

Sam bit his lip. His forehead creased and she can hear him breathe in, obviously thinking of something to say. The right thing to say, if there is such a thing at this point. Quinn doesn't let him.

"This sounds corny and stupid, and I hate it, but everything's gone too far, and I have to think about me."

"Are you breaking up with me?"

Adults don't talk in terms like that. Things just end, sometimes acrimoniously, sometimes with a whimper. They don't line out demarkations, not unless it's a messy divorce after a decade and a half of marriage.

"I don't know." And she doesn't. She doesn't want to break up with him; the thought still hurts as much as it had the night she'd thought it was coming.

"If I scared you last night, I didn't mean to. I didn't mean for it to be some big moment. It's just how I feel about you."

There'd been nothing wrong with what he'd said, except that the terms had been so stark, so laden with meaning, that it forced her to take stock. To stay up most of the night thinking thoughts that she'd pushed away since the day she realized that dating him wasn't so crazy after all.

Quinn tries to say the right thing. "Some day you're going to want to leave me."

"You don't know that."

"But I know that you're in your twenties, and even though it doesn't seem like it's even close, someday you're going to realize that you want kids, that you want to be married. Where does that leave me?"

"I don't think that far ahead."

"Well, I do. I have to. You say you love me now, but what about when you want those things?"

"If we both decide we want those things, why can't I have them with you?"

That's so ludicrous that she doesn't even dignify it with a response. The idea of her having another baby. He doesn't even know what he means; it more shooting from the hip.

"Look, I don't want what we have to be over." Saying 'break up' sounds like something from a teen drama. "But I do think we've moved too fast."

Sam pushed his hair away from his face, rubbed at his eyes. It's clear that he's humoring her. "Ok?"

"Let's just cool down for a little bit, take a break." Quinn stops him because he's clearly going to argue. "Not see other people or any of that cliched stuff." That's the last thing she wants. God, as if she could handle _another_ man. "If this is real, then we can stand a break."

"I know it's real."

And she believes that he thinks that. It's not his fault that he's just twenty-two and can't imagine that he'll ever feel differently than he does right in this moment. That's the amazing thing about being twenty-two - life hasn't forced you to reevaluate anything yet. Quinn makes the mistake of telling him that.

"I don't really appreciate it when you talk to me like I'm a child."

"I didn't mean it that way."

Sam gets up from his place sitting beside her. He jams his hands into his pockets like he's mad at them. "Well, as long as we're putting stuff out there, I just feel like I should say that I don't like it when you patronize me, and by the way, you do it a lot."

Alright, that irritates her a little.

"You're always telling me that I can't know how I feel, that I'll think differently when I'm older. Maybe, you know this is just a thought, but maybe I don't really like it when you just assume that I can't know what I'm talking about."

"I never meant —"

"I think you did mean it. I mean, that's what you've been telling me today, right?" Sam starts pacing the room. "You're worried that we're in too deep and you'll get hurt because I'm too young and stupid to be in an adult relationship, right? I might just turn into a jerk and dump you, right?"

They've never had a fight before, and she's never heard his voice sound like this, never seen his eyes look like this. They should have had a fight before this, should have argued about money or whether to go out on Friday night or how they don't actually like each others' friends. But there had been no arguments, so the first one has to be like this.

"Well," he went on, now moving to the other side of the bed, his side, it'd become recently, to find his clothes; he'd been wearing basketball shorts and an old t-shirt. "I'm sorry that I said I loved you last night. I was tired, must not have been thinking straight, right? Cause there's no way I could really know, young and stupid Sam, right?"

"Now you _are_ being a jerk." He's turning everything she said around, and it's not fair.

"Sorry." He heads towards the door. "I guess I'm just at a difficult age."

XxXxX

Usually, she walks Alec up to his classroom and goes inside to pick him up at the end of the day, too. But this week she stays in the car. If her son finds the difference significant, he doesn't comment, for which she's grateful.

Sam called the day after leaving her apartment.

"I'm sorry," he'd said. "I hated that, fighting with you."

"I did, too." But it's a good thing, she told him, cathartic, something they needed to get out. You can't be happy and sunny and smiling all the time, every second. Sam said he preferred it that way.

"Can I take you out tonight? Stacy can stay with Alec."

She'd turned him down. "I think we need to stick with the plan, have a little time apart."

"That was _your_ plan."

But he hadn't fought her. Quinn told herself that she was going to use this time to refocus and concentrate on herself and on Alec. It was almost scary, how much she'd come to depend on Sam showing up at her house every day, seeing him in the mornings when she dropped off Alec, in the afternoons when she picked him up. This would be a good week, and they'd be better for it, afterwards.

Now, she's back at the advertising agency; they'd called and asked her for a second interview. Quinn just hoped that they weren't stringing her along. She's wary of letting herself think that it might be possible, because the disappointment will only sting that much more if it's not, but getting this job would be amazing. A win.

She answers what she hopes is their final question, because she's running out of trite phrases about her sincere love of digital advertising. By this point they've interviewed her, over the course of two separate days, for about five hours in total. They ought to know her pretty well by now.

The committee thanks her for her time, tells her what a pleasure it's been getting to know her. Quinn figures that after the polite, meaningless little phrases they'll probably bid her good day and then repeat the process with the other applicants.

But then the chair of the committee invites her back to his office.

"We wanted to meet with you one more time before extending our offer."

For a moment she doesn't understand, but then, duh, it becomes obvious.

Truthfully, she hadn't expected it. She's a thirty-nine year old female; jobs like these don't go to people like her, irrespective of her degrees, years of experience, and skills. They go to kids just out of college, young people who are fresh and edgy.

But maybe she should start expecting to get the things she wants. Shaking the man's hand, trying to sound appreciative but not _too_ appreciate, she does deserve this, after all. Quinn starts to think that expecting to get what she wants might be a decent idea for once. It's an interesting change of worldview, and it happens over the course of a conversation. She ought to be paying more attention - they are talking about her salary, after all.

She gets back in her car with a job offer, a start date, and a new outlook. _If I want something, there's no reason why I shouldn't have it._ It's amazing how quickly there turnarounds happen.

XxXxX

The next day she goes up to Alec's classroom to pick him up, the first time in nearly a week that she hasn't waited in the car for him to come outside. But their break is effectively over, if he wants it to be.

Quinn had thought about that, after the fact. She'd instigated the break, and Sam had argued, but what if he found that he liked it? What if he woke up and realized that he was free to go out to parties and date beautiful young women? She'd asked him that once, about a month ago.

"Why aren't you out partying, dating some supermodel?"

They'd been sitting on the couch, watching the new _Power Rangers_ movie, a truly perfect example of how not to make a movie. The real mystery was why they were still watching it, when Alec had fallen asleep fifteen minutes ago.

"Uh, cause I'd rather be on this couch, watching _Power Rangers_ with some supermodel?"

Quinn rolled her eyes, remembering his answer, but she smiled, too. It hasn't even been a full week, and she's really missed him.

Sam matched her smile when he saw her walk into his classroom. There are four other parents milling about, collecting their kids, asking the teacher how everything's going. He obviously can't dump everything else and rush over to her, but Quinn sees him stealing glances. She gets Alec to tell her about his day while they wait for everyone else to leave.

"Hey." Finally, they're alone. Well, her son's with them, but he's already pulled his book from his backpack. So for all intents and purposes, they're alone.

"Hi," she answers, thankful that at last they could talk. This isn't the place to have a real conversation about anything important, but she can't wait. She's been holding it in too long, even though it's only been a matter of hours. It had been a struggle not to call him immediately after finding out. But she'd made herself wait.

"I've missed you." He slid his arm around her waist.

"I've missed you, too." She had, so much.

"So, us being apart didn't make you realize that you could live without me?"

He's joking, she knows. But she doesn't feel like joining in.

"I've got some news," Quinn said instead. "I just found out."

"Oh, yeah? Is it good news?"

She's spent all day asking herself that very question.

"I'm pregnant."

 _To be continued . . ._

 **Dum, dum, dum. When all else fails, knock 'em up. No, seriously, that's been in the plan since the beginning.**

 **So sorry that it's taken such a long time to get this chapter to you. Of late, we've been moving into our new house, which is a colossal venture, by the way. And my two year old son has had a cold, so my attention has been elsewhere.**

 **But, I hope you liked this chapter! Don't be afraid to leave reviews!**


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